Flying Too Close
by FugitiveSGA
Summary: Kirk and Spock are knocked unconscious on a strange deserted planet by a high technology beam which induces some amazing changes in their physiology and abilities. They are not sure whether they like the changes or not, so try to find the alien race. But there is no trace of them or their equipment, past or present. They do find two castaways from 21st century London, though.


**Flying Too Close**

**by Fugitive**

(Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, Paramount and BBC do. Nor do I make any money from doing this.)

**Chapter One**

Visiting other planets is a funny business. Things can change a lot, very fast. One minute you're an ordinary star ship captain, with your first officer in tow, the next…..

Jim tried to move, but his whole body had jack-knifed into a foetal position on the rough stone floor and at first he could not move a muscle. Pain swarmed across his head and back like a tide of angry wasps. He tried to cry out, but the pain was so intense that nausea swept over him whenever he tried to move his mouth. He started to turn his head with agonising slowness to look towards where he had last seen Spock beside him, but his neck would only turn so far and no further. Spock had heard or seen something just before Jim had, and had started to step around him from his customary position at the captain's left shoulder and place his body between Jim and… whatever… this was.

Jim groaned, the first sound to emerge from him since the field had struck, and dug fingernails into the stone, forcing his body around, tearing blood from under the nails as he made his fingers shift the weight of his whole body. He could not turn fast enough, so lifted one hand and groped behind him blindly, then found the reassuring clench of warm fingers so strong they had to be Vulcan. He managed to turn his face and see Spock prone on the ground just behind him, where the field had thrown him. The Vulcan's face was a mask of pain, but at least his eyes were open. A brief burst of some kind of telepathic contact came to Jim from Spock's fingers, then Jim blacked out.

When Jim awoke, the pain had dulled, but his head still hurt. The light in the cave was more slanted, redder. Was it nearing nightfall? His lips tried to form a word, but his mouth was so dry it came out as a rasping whisper. Then a warm hand touched his shoulder and the tight knot within his body eased slightly.

"Jim?"

Jim finally managed to rasp out, "Yeah….?" but it came out much weaker than he expected from his dry throat. He felt cold, but his back and his head still hurt and felt feverishly hot. He gradually became aware that he was on his stomach on the same cold rough stone, but his head was turned awkwardly and pillowed sideways in Spock's lap.

"What is your condition?" asked Spock.

"Mediocre, but improving. You?"

"The same. However, there is one major change in my physiology. It is unknown what other effects have occurred."

"Major change?" Kirk turned his head to look up at Spock… and shouted a warning. Two huge black feathered wings were raised just behind Spock, in a position from which their owner must be almost on Spock's back. The Captain suddenly found strength and flung Spock to the side, but the creature must have anticipated his move because the silky wings moved with the first officer. Spock was trying to say something but the dark wings beat in and out once with a slam of air into Jim's face... surely Spock must have noticed his assailant by now…. or was Jim hallucinating? Gradually Jim realised that Spock was calling to him, trying to gain his attention, but Jim had spun the Vulcan around and was now staring, horrified, at Spock's back. The creature must have insinuated itself into Spock's body, and memories of the events surrounding Sam's death came flooding back to Jim. He turned wide eyes to Spock, and suddenly the words that the Vulcan was saying began to register with the human.

"- change does not appear to be deleterious. In fact, as far as I can ascertain it is quite benign in nature."

"Change? What?"

Spock looked perplexed. Jim put both hands out and said, "What? Wait, Spock, you're saying this… isn't some alien body snatcher? It's a change in you?" Jim stepped back, still holding the Vulcan's upper arms, and said, "But they're huge. They're way too big for you."

"On the contrary, Jim, on a high-gravity planet such as Vulcan, to lift a dense body like mine-"

"You must have what, an eight metre wing span?" asked Jim, looking awestruck.

The black wings flicked out with a bone-deep bang and Spock corrected, "Ten point one five metres. They are easy to move though. It appears they have minimal mass."

"But high tensile strength, I'll bet….." and Jim walked slowly out towards the middle of Spock's right wing, staring up at the Vulcan's impressive new appendages. He hesitated, then reached a hand up tentatively, "May I?"

Spock swallowed, but said quickly, "Of course."

Jim reached up to run his fingers carefully along the inside of the wing about half-way up, because he couldn't reach the top. The feathers underneath were soft as tribble down, but he could see larger feathers, flight pinions, further out along the wing which were obviously stronger, though still the same glossy black.

"They have the same shine," he murmured.

"Captain?"

"As your hair. They're so black, they shine blue."

Spock looked as though he were holding his breath, "On Vulcan, they would shine red."

"What's wrong?"

"Captain?"

"Spock, you're not breathing and you just called me Captain twice. Don't play dumb, you're not good at it. If you're going to lay an egg or something, I want to know in advance."

Spock stared at him, for several long moments, and if Jim didn't know better he would have sworn he saw the corner of the Vulcan's mouth twitch marginally, but then Spock glanced up at where Jim's hand was still resting on his right wing and said, "They are, like my hands, telepathic to the touch."

"Oh, shit, sorry," said Jim and snatched his hands away.

"There is no need to apologize. I am pleased that you find them appealing."

Jim raised an eyebrow, then asked, "I do? You're pleased?"

"I believe that is what I said. However, it is possible that this is all an alien-induced illusion, and therefore I may not have said that at all."

"Yes, you did."

Spock stared up at the roof of the cavern, far above them, and at the large chimney structures leading up to the open sky, "At least we have a way out."

"For you, maybe. I can't fly."

Spock muttered something.

"What?"

"That situation will not last long," repeated the Vulcan, and took a step towards Jim, then shocked the human by running a hand over his back in a manner which would have felt to Jim like a field soldier conducting a first aid assessment, if it had not been a little too gentle.

"What are you... what are you doing, Spock?"

"Checking your condition. The initial stage seems to be the only painful stage of the metamorphosis."

"Initial stage… what?" Jim spun within the Vulcan's arms, trying to see over his shoulder.

Spock raised an eyebrow at his actions, "No matter how quickly you turn, Jim, you will not be able to see your middle back." He stopped the human, with Jim facing away from him, and held Jim's shoulders gently, examining something. Then Jim could feel gentle pressure on his back, but could not see what Spock was doing.

Jim sighed, "What are you doing?"

"Examining you to ensure that the metamorphosis is progressing along similar lines to mine. From my observations of your behaviour and the duration of your pain responses, I would say they would be fully formed within an hour. Gold, it would appear."

"What, I'm getting wings too? Mmph," was Jim's response.

"You are not impressed?"

"Not…. I don't know, Spock. We fly at warp speeds. Wings are redundant. This could be really awkward. For instance, if we ask for a beam-up now we could end up with our wings materializing inside the ceiling of the transporter room. And it could restrict us, on the bridge."

"It could be also very useful. For example, the ability to take flight would have saved you from injury on eighteen away missions this year alone."

"Whoa, whoa…. whoever said this was permanent?"

But before Spock could respond, Jim stiffened and said, "Ouch. I think these damned things are starting to develop. I thought you said it was painless from now?"

"I said 'seems' to be. I did not use the absolute, Jim. I am not human, it could affect you differently."

Jim's face went white just then, and he gasped and sank to his knees. Spock scooped him up and said quickly, "I can ease this pain."

"Maybe you shouldn't, it might be part of the process…. Ouch! Damn! Spock, I really don't want this feeding across to you. Put me down."

"Unnecessary. I will hold you. If the pain exceeds the tolerance level for a human, I will then be in a position to immediately alleviate it."

"Spock, you don't need to- oh, fuck! That hurt."

"I rest my case," murmured Spock, wrapping his wings protectively around the human as Jim's face began to tighten. He did not think it necessary to point out to the Captain that this action brought the soft feathered undersides of his wings into full contact with the captain's body, and that this established the same empathic contact as would a hand-touch, but over a much greater area. The Captain already had enough on his mind without Spock bothering him about details of Vulcan telepathy as it related to his newly altered Vulcan physiology.

Jim relaxed because he had no choice, leaned his head over onto Spock's chest, and closed his eyes as the pain began. Despite the pain, he felt protected, hidden. It was a strange sensation. The softness and strange feathery smell of Spock's wings could have been a shroud. Might be still, he thought, as another wave of pain hit him. Who was to say that his body would be able to stand up to the metamorphosis as Spock's stronger hybrid Vulcan body had?

He glanced up at Spock's face and muttered, "I hope my body can take this," then could have kicked himself as he saw the look in Spock's eyes. He tried to say something, to reassure Spock, but blacked out.

Spock furled his wings more tightly over his Captain against the rapidly descending cold in the caverns, and brought one wing tip around to cover his own face, and waited for the dawn or the rescue party, which came first.

**Chapter Two**

When the bright lights of the landing party found the large silky black pile of feathers in the cavern, it was to their great surprise when first Spock's, then Jim's face popped up out of the pile like ducklings' heads popping out from under their mother's feathers. McCoy's relief was palpable, until he realised that the pile of feathers was apparently Spock, and then to top things off the Captain emerged from Spock's protective wings sporting a magnificent pair of white wings with a light golden underside.

McCoy stared at the two of them as he quickly examined them both, and muttered to Jim, "You know, we really should start sending security patrols down planet-side before our senior officers, Jim."

"What, and miss seeing Spock like this?" grinned Jim.

"Well, I see you still have your sense of humour," said McCoy, "But not your shirt…. of course."

"It's only torn at the back," protested the Captain, then gasped as a sudden heavy thump sounded beside him and he felt a rush of cold air. Spock shot upwards out of the caverns, then beat his wings to hover a little awkwardly at first, about ten metres off the ground.

"What are you doing?" Jim called up to him.

Spock called down, "Why, travelling to the shuttle craft by the quickest available means, Captain." He steadied himself with a few more wing beats, then, "Would you care to join me, sir?"

"Jim, wait!" said McCoy, but it was too late.

Jim beat his wings experimentally, and lurched up out of the cavern awkwardly, then figured out the rhythm quickly and steadied himself, rising up until his face was level with Spock's.

"Hey, we're the same height up here," he grinned.

Spock stared at him and said, "Yes, but my wings are 2.3 metres longer than yours."

Jim screwed his face up at Spock and Spock's eyes sparkled, "Would you care to test our comparative air speeds en route to the shuttle, sir?"

"Fuck yeah, I'll race you. They might be 2.3 metres shorter, but I bet I'm faster!" Jim spun and took off towards the shuttle, then swore as Spock beat his wings a few times to gain a height advantage, then swooped past Jim overhead. Jim beat his wings faster and caught up surprisingly quickly. His slightly shorter wings could beat more quickly than Spock's, but the Vulcan's extra wing span gave him greater power with every downstroke.

They overshot the shuttle neck and neck, then swooped in lazy circles above it, watching the rescue party pick their way towards the shuttle over the rocky terrain.

Jim called out, "They'll be ages, Spock… let's see what these things can do!"

Spock nodded and started spirally upwards. Jim and he were circling now, on opposing sides of a small circle. Jim looked up and across at the black wings and grinned.

They climbed up to about a thousand feet, and Spock waited a moment while Jim levelled out facing him. Spock had quickly realised that his usual position behind Jim's shoulder was entirely impractical as it would have entangled their wings and brought them both crashing to the ground. He computed that from about five metres above the Captain, he could survey the terrain beneath Jim for danger, and any danger from above would be more likely to strike Spock than Jim.

"Do you realise what you've been doing?" asked Jim as they levelled out facing each other, sounding amused and exasperated.

Spock's mouth lifted slightly before he suggested, "Hovering over you?"

Jim shook his head with a rueful smile, "I'm never going to stop you, am I?"

"No, sir."

"Take it easy going down."

Spock gazed at him for several seconds, then tucked his wings in close to his body so that just the last two metres of the tips remained spread, rolled his body and plummeted down away from Jim with a last, mocking lift of one eyebrow.

"Fffff!" spat Jim, remembering the hours that Spock had spent practising with the gravity boots at Yosemite.

He could not possibly follow at the same speed without plummeting uncoordinated to the ground, so he swooped down in lazy circles, admiring the Vulcan and practising moving his wings in and out to increase and decrease his downward speed. He watched the black ball of feathers plummet towards the ground and swore again as Spock left it to the last second to spread his wings and jet along the landscape, dive bombing the landing party. From far below, McCoy's annoyed shout drifted up to Jim.

Spock let his speed carry him back up, then did a neat roll and flew back upwards towards Jim, taking up his already habitual position above the Captain.

They landed near the shuttle, a nerve-racking procedure for Jim, who decided that he definitely needed more practice, as he stumbled and turned an ankle.

"Give me a look," said Spock, as Jim sat down rubbing his ankle.

"Doesn't hurt much. Did you see it happen?"

"Of course," replied Spock, unzipping the Captain's boot and inspecting the ankle carefully with hands and eyes, "It does not seem broken."

"How can you tell?"

"Broken bones are quite painful. You are not experiencing the characteristic level of pain that you do when you have broken limbs."

Jim pulled his foot away and pulled the boot back on with an odd look at Spock, "I wish you'd warn me when you're going to do that."

"What? The empathy? Well, if I am touching you it is inevitable."

"I thought you could turn it off and on."

"If I could, Vulcans would not object to being touched."

Jim thought about that for a moment, "You never have objected. Well, not with me."

"Not with you. No."

Jim's eyes met the dark ones, but Spock looked away, then said, "The landing party is here. Perhaps you should get Doctor McCoy to scan your ankle."

"It's okay," said Jim tersely, and stood up, stepping up and down on the foot experimentally, and glancing occasionally at Spock.

Then the landing party arrived, and they were busy fitting Spock, Jim and two pairs of very large wings into the shuttle along with the rest of the landing party. At one stage the medical ensign shifted and was about to accidentally touch Spock's wing, but Jim noticed that Spock carefully moved it away to avoid the touch.

Jim and Spock had to cram themselves into the aisle to allow room for their wings and the other occupants of the shuttle crew.

Slowly, behind the back row of seats, the Vulcan's onyx-black wing-tip drifted downwards as he relaxed, so that it was just touching the white wingtip beside it.

Jim was not sure whether Spock had not noticed, or did not care to move away. He said nothing.

Chapter Three

It was awkward walking through the corridors to the turbo lift. They both had to hold their wings tilted forward over their shoulders, then allow them to trail back along the ground. At one stage an ensign stood on Jim's wing-tip, nearly pulling him over backwards and hurting his shoulder. The ensign apologised, but Spock shot him a dark look. Spock was thrown out of his usual pattern of behaviour, because he could not walk just behind Jim, but had to hang back a good deal from the captain to avoid making the same mistake the ensign had and stepping on Jim's wings. His look when McCoy stepped in ahead of Jim into the turbolift, then they realised that the turbolift would only take one winged occupant at a time, was frankly displeased.

"Sickbay," McCoy told the lift.

"Belay that. Bridge," said Jim curtly. He felt a little lost as the doors swished shut, leaving Spock to catch the lift on the next trip.

It was McCoy's turn to look displeased, "Any particular reason you are overriding your chief medical officer, Jim, or is it just habit?"

"We need to find out what this is and reverse it as soon as possible, Bones. If it's a transient effect, which it seems to be, we need to be scanning to catch the next wave of activity. Spock and I can come to sickbay later. I just want to set things up to investigate it first."

"Well, alright, I suppose you're not showing any signs of illness, exactly. But I'm going to hang around for a while and monitor you two on the bridge. And if anything unusual happens to either of you after I leave I'll expect to be notified immediately."

"Okay."

"Good."

The door swished open, and Jim strode over to his chair… and realised that he could not sit in it. His wings, emerging at about the level of his shoulder blades, were in the way. He hit the comm button, "Scotty?"

"Aye, sir? Glad to hear you be doin' okay, laddie. And Mr Spock."

"Thanks, Scotty. Have you got anything… oh, just get up to the bridge and have a look, will you? A picture paints a thousand words, as they say."

"Aye, sir…." Scotty sounded intrigued, "I'll be right there!"

Jim paced, but even that was impractical, as his wings kept bumping against the railings and his chair. Spock arrived in the turbolift and turned the main science station chair neatly around its base, twisted it, did something strange with his thumbs, and the chair came off at floor level, leaving a flat floor. Spock held the chair out and a yeoman automatically took it, and Spock went back to stand at his station and begin scanning.

Jim turned around, "Sulu?"

"Aye, sir?"

"I assume we are in orbit over the source of the phenomenon which affected Mr Spock and me?"

"Aye, sir. We have been scanning, but there's nothing down there. No energy field, no magnetic disturbances, no unusual readings at all. Whatever hit you perhaps only operates periodically."

"Or only in response to certain stimuli, Mr Sulu," suggested Spock.

"Yes, well, it's not operating now, and we haven't detected anything since that initial burst that affected you and the Captain, sir," answered Sulu. Spock nodded.

"That seems a long time for it to be inoperative," frowned the Captain.

"Why, Jim?" asked Spock. A couple of the bridge crew shot odd looks at him, but the Captain simply smiled and answered, "Well, if it's some sort of defensive field, wouldn't it scan more than once every two planetary days?"

"It may operate only in response to certain activities, in response to sensors detecting intruders," replied Spock.

"In which case why didn't it respond to McCoy's party?" asked Sulu.

"Or…" pondered Jim "… it may not have a defensive function at all. I can't see enabling their opponents to fly giving them the tactical advantage."

"What could it be for, then?" asked McCoy, intrigued.

Spock bent over his scanners, and Jim looked up at him out of habit, but then realised that the black wings prevented him from seeing the Vulcan's back. He found that strangely irritating.

The turbo lift doors swished, and Scotty appeared. He stopped and stared at Jim and Spock in turn, and smiled, "Well… here be angels…."

"Huh," grinned Jim, "I don't know about that….

Scotty's quick eyes assessed them both, "I didna ken, when I took this job, tha' the Captain and his first Vulcan would be needing booster seats, then!"

Jim chuckled, "Give me a break Scotty, just get something so I can sit down, hey?"

"Aye, I'll be back shortly, sir. I'll have ta use the fabricating replicator in Engineering," Scotty spun on his heel and left, whistling happily.

_'The Captain and his first Vulcan', indeed_, thought Kirk. He glanced over at Spock, who was looking at the turbolift doors as they closed, then flicked his dark alien gaze to Jim, before turning back to his scanners.

Jim smiled, and glanced at the annoying feathers covering Spock's back, then frowned as they moved aside slightly, giving him an excellent, if brief, view of said back. Brief because Spock jumped forwards as though he had been stung, then turned around and looked puzzled.

"Are you alright, Mr Spock?" asked Jim.

"Yes, Captain."

"Then why did you just jump?"

"I… thought something just brushed past behind me," reported Spock.

Inevitably McCoy aimed his trilling tricorder at Spock and walked towards the Vulcan. Spock looked at the machine, and McCoy frowned, "Heart rate elevated, breathing elevated, blood pressure rising, blood distribution tending towards the peripheral…. Spock, I think you'd better come to sickbay with me…."

"Doctor, I am not ill," protested Spock, looking oddly at Jim.

"Not yet. But when you start hallucinating and then your life readings start to change, I want to know what's going on. Jim, you'd better tag along… there's no telling whether this could hit you, too."

The Captain frowned, but said to Sulu, "You have the Con, Sulu, let me know if you find anything."

"Aye, sir."

This time, Jim was the one left behind when they entered the turbolift, and Jim wished that the lift was a little larger. Or maybe he and Spock could take the lift instead of Spock and Bones. It would be a tight fit, but Jim was sure they would manage. He could cope with being held close by those silky wings again, he realised, but then as Spock turned after entering the lift Jim caught the Vulcan giving him a look that was… appraising? The doors swished shut.

Jim tapped his foot until the lift returned, disgorging Scotty, who tutted his disapproval that the two recipients of his engineering prowess, in the form of two booster cushions, were already off the bridge or leaving. Jim glanced at him as they passed, then at the cushions, and said, "Thanks, Scotty."

Scotty shrugged as the turbo lift doors closed on him.

Spock and McCoy were waiting in the corridor for him and they walked into sickbay. Jim drifted over to the computer on the desk near the door and called up the bridge scanners. McCoy managed to get Spock to sit on an examination table, but when he went to reach for his scanner, he found his way obstructed by Spock's trailing wings.

"Hey, Jim, hand me that scanner next to you, will you please?" called McCoy.

Jim nodded, and waved a distracted hand at the scanner, which floated gently up into the air and across to McCoy.

It took quite a few seconds of stunned silence from Bones to make Jim realise what he had just done. The Captain looked up, to see McCoy looking stunned, holding the scanner, and Spock nodding as though he was half-expecting something like that to happen.

"Wait… did I just…." asked Kirk, staring at the scanner.

McCoy looked at Spock, who said, "It was not me."

"Besides, Vulcans don't have those sort of powers, Jim. They don't just move something by looking at them."

Jim was staring at his hand, but then the look on Spock's face caught his attention. Jim stared at Spock, then walked over to him. The Vulcan looked up… looking… guilty? Jim frowned, then asked very softly, so that McCoy leaned forward and tried to hear, but could not, "Spock….. why don't you look very surprised?"

Spock stared up at him and his lips parted slightly, but he lowered his face, still looking up at Jim, and said nothing.

Jim tilted his head enquiringly, and suddenly the Vulcan rose from the examination table and said, "My apologies, Doctor, but I assure you that I do not require an examination at this point in time." He strode out of sickbay, ducking his wings to avoid the doorway, and disappeared down the corridor. Jim frowned, and moved to go after him.

"Jim…."

"I'll…. deal with him, Bones. It's okay."

Bones pursed his lips and sighed as Jim left, then turned to his computer, "Computer…"

"Acknowledged."

"Captain Kirk and Commander Spock… are the subject of a temporary physiological change. They have developed… avian features. Keep a medical scan tied to each of them and notify me immediately if they start showing signs of undue physical stress... or other non-specified metabolic changes."

"Please specify exact nature of current physiological status and new safe metabolic limits."

McCoy placed his tricorder down before the computer and said, "Access scans on tricorder from arrival in transporter room approximately thirty minutes ago and accept as norm for each of them. Notify me of any deviation from that norm to…. ten per cent, for each metabolic parameter. If more than one metabolic parameter exceeds the ten per cent margin of error, treat as a possible medical emergency."

"Complying," the tricorder trilled for several seconds and the computer said, "Completed. Monitoring of Captain Kirk and Commander Spock has commenced and will continue until further notice."

"Thank you," muttered McCoy distractedly.

"Thanks are illogical," responded the computer promptly.

McCoy glanced at it ruefully, "Well, we'd never know who's been programming you lately, would we?"

"Incorrect. Programming logs are archived daily. Commander Spock has-"

"Oh, shut up," chuckled McCoy.

**Chapter Four**

The Vulcan was fast, so Jim asked the computer to locate him, "Commander Spock is in the shuttle hangar," responded the computer. Jim headed for the shuttle deck.

As soon as he walked onto the shuttle deck, he realised why Spock was there. Jim's own wings folded out with a crisp snap as soon as he cleared the door buttresses in the bay. He stretched his wings and felt the tension in his whole body ease. Spock was nowhere to be seen, but just as Jim realised that he should look up, an immense dark shape landed beside him with a rush of air.

"Sir?"

"Dammit, Spock, if you don't start calling me Jim, I'm going to…."

"Sir, we are on board the vessel."

"And alone."

"The vessel is under constant surveillance."

"Okay, Spock, get that stick out of your ass and tell me what just happened back at sickbay?"

Spock fell silent, and looked down. Jim waited. Eventually the Vulcan said, "I do not know."

"Funny," commented Jim.

"Sir?"

"Jim," insisted Jim.

"Jim," the Vulcan conceded. His feathers were still a little wind-blown from the quick flight he had taken around the hangar deck, and he fluffed them out further, then they settled back to the familiar neatness of blue-black gloss.

"I said it's funny."

"What is?" asked Spock.

"How every other 'unknown' in the last eighteen months I've ever seen you exposed to, you've been drawn to like a moth to a flame. Why did this one spook you away?"

Spock took a deep breath, "The scanner did not obey the laws of physics."

"Go on."

"So, either the laws of physics were not in effect in sickbay at the time, or they were being altered by some other effect."

"You mean overridden?"

"Yes."

"So why not just say so? Why bolt for the shuttle deck?"

"Jim, I…."

"Spock, is there something more wrong? More than just the wing thing?"

"Yes. I… believe… that you or I lifted the scanner when it floated to McCoy in sickbay just now."

"What… you mean some sort of telekinesis? What makes you think that?"

"Several things. I merely came here to test my theories unobserved… and to stretch my wings."

Jim looked around, "Not a bad idea." Slowly, he began to flap his wings, and then grunted, "They're a bit stiff."

"Yes, I found the same thing. I believe that they might require exercise for several hours a day to function correctly."

The both gradually rose up, and Jim asked, "How were you going to test the telekinesis?"

"Under field conditions, of course. Observe the toolkit in the corner by that workstation."

Jim watched, entranced, as several spanners floated lazily up out of the tool kit, "Wow."

"Of course, that still does not demonstrate which of us has this ability. We were both in sickbay, and we are both here now."

"How about I try lifting something, and I don't tell you what?" asked Jim.

"Logical," and Spock flapped his way aside a little, then waved an arm at the toolkit, inviting Jim to attempt to raise something out of it.

Nothing in the toolkit moved.

Spock waited a few minutes, then suggested, "Jim, perhaps…."

Jim was grinning wickedly. Spock looked wary and asked, "What is amusing you?"

"Turn around, Spock," smiled the Captain.

Spock turned, and looked calmly at the empty space on the hangar floor where the shuttle craft had been, then looked up. The shuttle was floating over their heads.

"I see," was all he said, but Jim thought for a moment he looked… relieved?

"I can make other things fly, not just me," grinned Jim.

"We both can. But Jim, be careful. We do not know how violent a world these aliens inhabited, how warlike they were. You could have defensive mechanisms that are dangerous to other members of the crew. Also, you may be… using your abilities without realising it."

"What do you mean?"

"There have been…. certain effects on my person today on the bridge."

Jim went pale, then looked across at Spock, who was still lazily flapping his wings, bobbing slowly up and down in rhythm with their soft beat. Jim looked at the shuttle, and it gradually lowered to the floor with a slight bump, then he turned his attention fully to Spock.

"Okay, Spock, what is it you're not saying? And why have you been avoiding me for three days?"

Spock hesitated, then looked up at Jim's expectant face, and said tentatively, "Humans tend to fantasize or daydream when bored, do they not?"

"Yeah, okay, so I daydream occasionally. Where's the harm in that?"

"Jim, when you are telekinetic and you daydream about… another person…" the Vulcan stopped, looking embarrassed.

Jim frowned and tilted his head, "Spock?"

Spock finished with a rush, "You do not imagine touching them. You actually touch them. They can feel it."

Jim looked puzzled, "How do you know that?"

"Captain, I come from a planet of telepathic and what you would call psychic individuals."

"But you're a touch telepath, Spock."

"You have just answered your own question. Sir."

Jim fell silent, then felt himself transfixed by the dark eyes, as realisation sank in. If he was touching Spock, even by telekinesis, the Vulcan could read his feelings. Even if Jim was only imagining those feelings. Like when he sat on the bridge and daydreamed about his first officer. The Vulcan would feel everything that Jim imagined doing to him, and would read every associated thought.

Jim stopped flapping, in order to sink silently to the floor, and walked awkwardly towards the hangar deck door which led back into the ship. Spock watched him for a few seconds, and closed his eyes in mute sympathy. He remembered the humiliation of his first mind meld with his father, when all his human weaknesses and dreams and imaginings had been examined under the cold light of Vulcan logic, and the shame he had felt. If Jim was feeling a tenth of that….

Jim had stopped just before reaching the shuttle bay doors when Spock landed beside him, and the human's face was red with shame. Jim did not look at him, just muttered, "Sorry… I'm so sorry…"

"Jim…." Spock took his arms and pulled him around to face him, but the human still looked away.

"You could have told me earlier," muttered Jim.

"I was not sure until you moved the shuttle, that these were your thoughts, not my own imaginings."

They were standing at the edge of the door sensors, and the doors opened in response to some body movement from Jim, but the human stood rooted to the spot, staring at the floor, until they swished shut again. Spock stood, looking at Jim, who said slowly, "Your own imaginings? Would you care to elaborate?"

Spock nodded with great dignity, and managed to say, in a strangled voice, "It appears that we share some… common ground, in that regard…. sir."

Jim looked up and finally met his eyes, "Common ground? Surely you don't…."

"Captain…" Spock framed his words carefully, "I am not made of stone. And you are… more than attractive."

There was a long, long silence while that sank in. It was Jim's turn to quirk his mouth slightly upwards and gaze intently at Spock.

Slowly, Spock took one hand off Jim's arm and lifted the human's chin, then gently lifted the hand further to touch the human's cheek. Jim's eyes flared, then he glanced at the hand, frowned and met Spock's eyes. What he saw there made him frown even more, concentrating, analysing.

"Spock…."

"I must admit I was… somewhat surprised to be the object of your attentions…. but not displeased," said Spock softly.

The human swallowed, "You're not just saying this to make me feel better?"

Spock exhaled slightly, and shook his head, "No." He lowered his hand from the human's face and arm, and took both Jim's hands in his, turning them gently toward himself and looking into the human's eyes.

"Jim. Would you care to join me for lunch? It appears that we have much to discuss."

Jim stared at his hands, which were tingling oddly, and asked Spock, "What did you want to discuss?"

"Well, obviously, we need to remove your…. daydreaming, to somewhere a little more private than the bridge."

"Are you going to teach me how to stop it?"

"You might say that," said Spock pulling gently on Jim's hands.

"What are you…." Jim protested, puzzled, as he was pulled towards the Vulcan, then fell silent as Spock's face came within millimetres of his. Jim gazed, mesmerized, into the dark eyes, then Spock leaned forward slightly and kissed him.

Jim stood stunned at first, then returned the kiss, with interest. Within moments, they were both breathing faster, kissing each other eagerly, Jim's hands up around the back of Spock's neck, pulling him in to the kiss. Eventually they broke it off, and Spock suggested, "My cabin?" The human nodded rapidly.

They walked through the now-stuttering hangar doors into the corridors of the ship. Spock walked a few metres behind Jim, careful to avoid stepping on the trailing white feathers. Jim threw a look over his shoulder, then turned back and smiled to himself, despite their restricted and clumsy progress through the now narrow-seeming corridors and turbo lifts. The dark eyes met his with a smoky intensity at each glance, and Jim willed the turbolift to move faster. To his surprise, it did. Spock raised a speculative eyebrow at him as he noticed the change in transit times when they disembarked on Level Five.

They made it in the door, barely.

Spock's eyes were practically blazing as he turned to face Jim and called out the locking sequence on the door, and then stepped towards the human.

Jim looked him up and down and thought of what he would like to do to Spock and the Vulcan froze, closed his eyes, and gasped as every nerve ending on his skin came alive with subtle pleasure, "Jim…." he gasped, then the human moved up to him and stood millimetres away.

"This is so damned hot," whispered Jim, "I can do stuff to you, without even touching you."

"I would prefer that you touch me," whispered Spock, then suddenly they were melted together, their bodies fused together by raw energy and building heat. Spock crushed the human to him and placed his fingers without preamble upon the meld points on Jim's face before Jim could say anything but, "What?"

"You could hurt me, badly. We need the meld," muttered Spock, then his mouth descended eagerly onto Jim's. Jim ran his hands under the Vulcan's shirt and around his back… into seductively soft feather down. Spock frowned, then continued probing Jim's mouth with his hot tongue. Jim smiled and stepped back slightly, watching as invisible hands undid Spock's boots and pants, then underpants. Clothing disappeared off both of them at a dizzying rate, and then they stood before each other, naked except for the feathered areas down their ribs and backs where their wings attached.

Spock kissed down Jim's neck, and slowly knelt down as he kissed down the ridges of Jim's stomach, and lower. The Vulcan looked up with those mesmerising eyes into Jim's as his mouth finally descended on Jim's cock, and Jim whispered, "Ohhhh, Spock..."

He could feel everything that Spock felt and wanted, and could respond either physically or using the telekinesis if his hands and mouth were occupied. Jim sighed and let the Vulcan gently lower him to the floor in the middle of the cabin. He used his wings to brace himself up slightly from the floor so he didn't injure his back, then realised that he could use the telekinesis to gather a soft bed of denser air to pillow him, and did so. Spock knelt astride him, his dark eyes blazing with lust, and ran his fingers through the soft down of golden feathers up the side of Jim's ribs. The sensation was exquisite, and Jim moaned as the Vulcan raised his own wings and cocooned them both in a tent of silky black feathers. Jim ran his hands up the soft feathers on the inside of Spock's wings, and the Vulcan gasped.

"Did I hurt you?" whispered Jim, but Spock shook his head, and managed to gasp out, "Just… so intense… the telepathy."

"Yes," agreed Jim, and pulled Spock down to kiss him. Spock quickly worked his way back down and took Jim's cock in his mouth, and the human threw his head back and moaned with pleasure, "God, Spock, oh, God…. this is so much better…."

"Than daydreaming on the bridge," he heard Spock murmur, and then Jim smiled, but then was lost because from that point on he did not really know what was Spock's pleasure and what was his, who was doing what to whom, who was thinking what, or who was using the telekinesis to do or create what. Even when he was being rocked wildly by a climax, head thrown back and screaming Spock's name, Jim was not sure whether it was his climax or Spock's or both.

They called in sick for the afternoon, but told Scotty to rearrange the shifts so that McCoy didn't notice. McCoy noticed anyway when he went to contact Jim or Spock to check on their health and found them both listed as being in Spock's quarters but with the privacy lock on. He grinned, but said nothing.

Back in Spock's quarters, Jim stroked the Vulcan's black silky hair, watching Spock sleep with his hand firmly meshed into Jim's, his body entwined about the human's from the waist down, and his wings curled protectively over them both.

Jim frowned, pondering the events of the last two days. You could have blown him over with a feather when he discovered that Spock reciprocated his hidden desires. Delighted, relieved and exhausted, he lay his head down on the Vulcan's arm and slowly fell asleep.

Snow white feathers mixed with silky black as their wings drooped gradually down across them in sleep.

**Chapter Five**

They were both exhausted. A week of fruitless scanning of Icarus II had brought them nothing of any use. Combined with the sweet exhaustion of constant mind-numbing sex every night, the search for a solution to their problem had them stumbling out of Spock's cabin every morning with wings drooping. Jim called a briefing to try to figure out what the purpose of the transitory field was.

Jim took his coffee with a terse nod at the yeoman who handed it to him, then looked over at Spock. They had been batting ideas around the table for two hours, now. Some of the best minds in the Federation were in this room, but this seemingly non-existent alien race and their mysterious transitory field had them all stumped. Jim's mind drifted for a moment, as he gazed at the Vulcan and remembered earlier that morning in Spock's cabin when those huge black wings had shuddered in climax again and again as he had fingered Spock's prostate over and over, grazing across it with the tip of his fingers, driving the Vulcan to excruciating pleasure. Jim smiled.

Suddenly Jim realized that Spock was looking at him intently, with a plea in his eyes. Jim squinted, nodded an almost imperceptible apology to Spock, and the Vulcan breathed a sigh of relief. Jim's day dreaming, combined as it was with the telekinetic ability to make such day dreaming feel disturbingly real to the object of his musings, in this case Spock, was becoming all too practised and real for Spock to maintain Vulcan decorum. Spock had politely informed Jim in Spock's cabin the previous night that it was an excellent opportunity for him to test his Vulcan control techniques, whilst practising communicating through their newly formed mental bond. Jim had stared at Spock then grinned, and kissed him, saying mischievously, "So what you're saying is, 'don't stop,' Spock?"

Spock pursed his lips primly, then tilted his head and did a kind of cute eyebrow-shrug, and Jim was smiling broadly as he kissed the Vulcan. It was a concession that Jim could live with. He proceeded to ensure that the Vulcan's self-control was tested at every available opportunity, in the interests of Spock's long-term personal development. Plus, fingering the Vulcan telekinetically on the bridge made for some pretty hot sex when they finally got back to their cabins after shift. Last night, after hours of what Jim had quietly dubbed 'character-building' Spock had dragged him in the door, and pulled him to him by his shirt front and gasped, "Just fuck me, please!" and Jim had been delighted to comply.

Jim came back to reality and asked, "So, summation, Doctor?"

McCoy rubbed his eyes, _and a silky Vulcan hand wrapped itself seductively around Jim's wrist_.

Jim blinked as McCoy began his analysis, "Well, Captain, it doesn't seem harmful, but we just don't know. It could turn into something nasty at any moment…. You could drop dead, or mutate into a non-sustainable form, one that is incompatible with human physiology. The trouble is, Jim…."

_A deep voice whispered Vulcan words in his ears, just beyond the edge of hearing_…. Jim sucked in a breath of air as suddenly he felt his entire body light up with pleasure. He glanced across at Spock. The Vulcan's eyes were fixed on Jim with a predatory gleam in them, and he allowed himself the tiniest of facial expressions: a slightly raised eyebrow, an up-tilted mouth corner. Jim glared at him, but then found that his heart wasn't in the glare as _something grabbed him gently by the balls and began to palpate them with infinite gentleness._

"Jim? Jim? For God's sake, man, you called the briefing, the least you could do is look even vaguely interested in what I have to say," grumbled Bones at him.

"Sorry, Bones," said Jim sheepishly, and shot a glance at Spock, who shrugged imperceptively, innocently.

Bones continued, a little miffed, "As I was saying, the trouble is, we don't have a sufficiently large sample population of affected entities, either of aliens or ourselves, to study the effects of this transformation. Only you and Spock were transformed, Jim, and you two aren't even the same species. So we can't study this empirically."

"Well, gentlemen, that's why I called you here to brainstorm instead," Jim assured them, and sat back in his seat. Then, mostly to distract Spock from practising his newly gained telekinetic powers on Jim, he asked Spock, "Summary, Spock?"

"We are dealing with a transient field of unknown origin, power and technology, on a planet with few evolved life-forms, which has caused drastic alterations, one might say spontaneous mutations, in two of the crew, the Captain and myself. These mutations consist of the development of viable feathered wings and of course, the telekinesis. These mutations appeared to develop at differing rates, with my avian mutation developing more quickly than the Captain's, and his telekinesis developing before mine."

"But your telekinesis is catching up," Jim couldn't resist, giving Spock a look.

"Yes," agreed the Vulcan, _mentally wrapping hot fingers around Jim's flaccid member and tweaking it gently out along his inner thighs under his uniform pants_.

"By the way, I need to discuss something with you at the end of this meeting, Spock. Don't let me forget," ground out Jim, managing to sound perfectly normal to everyone in the room except Spock.

The deep voice came through the mental bond again, this time in Standard, dancing with humour, _Yes, I would love to throw you across the briefing table after the meeting and fuck you senseless, too, Jim. Then perhaps lunch and a few quick laps around the hangar deck… throw in some autoerotic asphyxiation, and my day will be complete…."_

Jim's mouth dropped open, and he clamped it shut quickly.

"Did you just have an idea, Jim?" asked McCoy hopefully.

Of course, in order to explain away the betrayal of his too-human facial expressions, Jim had to pretend that he did. And sometimes pretending that you have an idea, can actually give you an idea.

"Yes, actually, I do," he said, then went on thoughtfully, "What are we looking at here?"

"Advanced technology?" suggested Spock hopefully.

"Yes. And advanced technology goes with advanced races, and what have we consistently noticed about advanced races when we have encountered them in our journeys?" asked Jim, looking around at them all.

McCoy grinned, "That you tend to piss them off?"

"I'll ignore that, Bones," chucked Jim.

"I concur," put in Spock.

"What, you agree with Bones?" asked Jim incredulously.

"Well, being from an advanced race myself…." Spock was almost smiling, and Scotty, Uhura and Sulu got the joke and laughed.

"Careful, Spock, that's almost mutiny," laughed Sulu.

"Well, I shall try harder not to piss you off in future, Mr Spock," smiled Jim, "But come on, let's get back on-topic. Advanced races… apart from being easily annoyed, what characteristics do they have in common?"

"A less species-centric outlook?" suggested Spock.

"Exactly! They're focused on other races, on developing them. So is it possible that this… that these mutations are not aimed at them, or at potential enemies, but at the planet ecosystem in general, to encourage… general evolutionary development?"

Spock's eyes lit with comprehension, and he said, "Of course."

"Jim, I'm not quite with you," said Bones, "So, what you mean they… sweep the planet occasionally with some sort of mutation beam to encourage evolutionary development on the planet?"

"Yes, exactly, Bones."

"Hmmm," said Uhura.

"What?" asked Sulu.

"Well, it hasn't worked very well, though, has it?" observed Uhura, "There's not much down there, certainly no animal life that we can detect."

"And yet the technique worked almost flawlessly on Jim and me, two quite diverse fauna species," observed Spock.

"So, what, Spock, are you suggesting that the field causes the life form caught in it to evolve rapidly to its next natural evolutionary stage? Well, that wouldn't be much good unless you had a pair…." McCoy trailed off, and Jim suddenly wished that his senior crew was stupid as they all shuffled their feet and tried not to look at Spock's and his almost identical wings. A pair… a mated pair, of course was what Bones had meant but not said.

"Well," said Scotty, coming to Jim's rescue like the gallant Scotsman that he was, "That's a lovely theory, gentlemen… and lady… but where does it get us? How do we reverse it?"

"Reverse it?" asked Spock, who had been staring fixedly at Jim, declining to meet the eyes of the other crew members, "Why would you want to reverse it?"

Jim looked at Spock speculatively, "What, you like the wings?"

"Yes. It would be better to be able to fly in them though. The Enterprise is rather restrictive."

Jim stared at him.

Scotty couldn't think of anything gallant to say to rescue Spock from that faux pas. Criticising the Enterprise was… well, you just didn't do it in front of Jim Kirk.

"We'll break for lunch. Take an hour, then take another hour and go see if you can hunt up some ideas from your people," said Kirk, "We'll meet back here at two."

They stood up and began to file out of the room, but the Vulcan hung back, and so did Jim.

The door swished shut behind the rest of the crew members, and Spock and Jim rounded on each other.

"I am finding your behaviour… quite distracting, Jim."

"You're a pretty quick learner yourself. And what's with criticizing my ship?"

"I was simply pointing out the restrictive nature of the interior rooms and corridors when one is bearing wings. The ship was not designed for that."

"I might forgive you."

Spock took the captain by both shoulders and kissed him, then reached around behind his back and lifted Jim onto the briefing table.

"Spock, you've gotta be kidding me… in the main briefing room?"

"Privacy lock, three, three, seven zee," called out Spock, then turned to Jim, "Yes, indeed: here, now."

"It's rock hard, this table," protested Jim, but hot breath up the side of his neck, and Vulcan eyes gazing into his, then a burst of telepathic contact flooding his mind with desire, changed his mind for him quite quickly. Spock pushed Jim's trousers down around his thighs and climbed fluidly on the table, straddling Jim and pinning him down gently. Jim smiled happily as the Vulcan trailed warm kisses down his neck and then skipped straight down to take Jim's now-swollen member in his hot mouth. The human cried out in a mixture of surprise and the sort of pleasure that is so intense it is almost pain, for Spock had been readying him earlier, during the meeting, using his newly acquired telekinetic abilities that seemed to have flowed across the link from Jim.

Dark wings came about them, and for many long minutes, a visitor to the briefing room, were it not locked, might have assumed that the black-winged creature in there had pinned and was attacking the beautiful gold and white creature, whose snowy wings twitched convulsively under it for many minutes before it died a small death born of pleasure.

Afterwards, Spock gently helped Jim clean himself up using supplies from the catering replicator unit in the wall, then dressed him just as gently. But the Vulcan, although happily sated, looked a little down to Jim's practised eye.

"Something bugging you?" asked Jim.

Spock shook his head, but the human thought, '_the hell there isn't_….' as they walked off in search of lunch and company in the mess.

**Chapter Six**

Star ships have to move on. The United Federation of Planets spends a fortune in wages, fuel, food, and other general expenses to keep a star ship in space. A constellation class ship like the Enterprise cannot sit idly orbiting one planet because its Science Officer does not wish to endure an accidental and minor mutation inflicted upon him by a lost civilisation.

Komack was in fine form, "Your Captain does not appear to be having any trouble adapting to the transition, Commander Spock. I suggest you follow his lead and accept this situation with some semblance of military decorum."

Jim was going to throw something at the screen, but Spock telekinetically prevented him from picking up the plate of food, and spoke calmly, "Captain Kirk has a shorter, more manageable wingspan, sir, and is not a touch-telepath. If I am to avoid inadvertently touching other crewmembers and reading their thoughts I would have to literally bind my wings to my body using some sort of harness or restraints."

Komack raised his eyebrows and looked at him archly, "Then I suggest you cease complaining and do so, Commander Spock. This mutation that you seem to find so much of an inconvenience is something that many humans would give their right arm for."

"Admiral Komack," said Jim silkily, "Would you care me to relay that suggestion to Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan?"

"Don't pull rank on me by proxy, Kirk. So one crew member has a problem. It's not life threatening. It doesn't affect his health or longevity. Stop whining about nothing and get my ship back in service."

Komack cut the connection.

"Fuck him."

"No thank you," responded Spock primly, and Jim looked at him ruefully and smiled.

"Dammit, Spock, he's right, we have to get the ship back in service. Do you want to stay here with a scientific team?"

Spock looked straight ahead, then glanced at Jim, "For how long?"

"Until you figure out the key to changing this thing back. Until we can both get back to normal."

The Vulcan was silent, then nodded his head slowly, "It would be the logical course of action."

"I'll get the Enterprise to swing back in six weeks, then. If you haven't found anything by then, you may as well keep researching it on board."

"Aye, Captain," but Jim did not seem to notice that the Vulcan's voice was hardly more than a whisper.

"Right, you get the expedition ready, then, Spock. I need to talk to Scotty and McCoy. I'll meet you in the shuttle bay in two hours. An away team of seven should suffice."

"Sir."

Spock turned and shuffled out, ducking his wings down to fit through the door. Although Jim did notice that the Vulcan did not seem to have to lower his wings too far down this time… they already seemed to be quite drooped.

Jim sighed. The whole business seemed to have gotten Spock down…. better that they be on the planet, where he could relax a little and literally spread his wings.

Jim hit the button on his computer and said, "Engineer Scott and Doctor McCoy to Captain's quarters in five minutes please." He had a lot to organise.

Two hours later precisely, Jim walked onto the hangar deck, his star fleet issue duffel bag over his shoulder. Spock looked up as he entered, then stopped what he was doing and stared at him.

Jim walked over to him and asked quietly, "Problem?"

"Are you planning to join us on the planet?"

"Of course I am… did you…." then Jim realised and closed his eyes, "Oh, shit."

"Jim?"

"Surely you didn't think I was going to warp away on the Enterprise and leave you here?"

"Actually, I did assume-"

"Spock, what kind of a cold-hearted bastard do you think I am?"

"It would have been the logical solution."

"The ship can survive without me for a few weeks," declared Jim, "Sulu and Scotty can manage her as well as any other command team in the fleet. Better than most, in fact."

"Jim, you do not have to do this."

"I might see things that you and the science team miss."

"Captain…"

"Shut up, Spock, I'm coming with you," said Jim, and that, Spock knew, was that. Deep down, the Vulcan admitted to himself that the impending six weeks planet side was now looking a much more attractive proposition.

Jim grinned at him as they stepped up awkwardly into the shuttle and moved down the back so that the other team members could have room to man the consoles. Jim allowed their wingtips to slide across each other behind them, with a faint rasping sound, and said, "Cheer up, Spock. This could be a lot of fun."

"I am cheerful, sir."

"Oh, of course, excuse me."

**Chapter Seven**

Once the shuttle had settled on the planet, Jim jumped happily down, noticing that his wings opened slightly, as if by instinct, on even that short leap into the air. He looked around. They had chosen a spot not too far from the original source of the anomalous beam which had affected Jim and Spock, but on a higher plateau where there seemed to be a little more vegetation, although it was still sparse. From where they were, they could see the undulating rock formations and caverns on the plain below easily. Spock walked over to the edge of the cliff and looked down at the vista, and Jim instinctively wanted to remind him not to get too close to the edge, but realised that it didn't matter. If he fell, he could simply spread his blue-black wings and fly.

"Why are we even trying to reverse this?" Jim muttered to himself, looking at the Vulcan, who looked almost mythological in stature now, with the glossy black wings towering over his head. Spock turned to look at Jim and Jim's breath caught at the instant softening of expression in those dark eyes.

Spock had turned to see Jim and found that he had to remind himself to keep breathing. His mother had taken him once to see the works of Michaelangelo, and he had stared entranced at the white-winged creatures on the ceiling of the great historic Earth chapel. It had been Spock's first real insight into the power of the human mind… such wondrous creatures, drawn from the artist's imagination and nothing more. But now the myth had become reality, because Jim looked like one of those archangels, with his golden body and hair and the snowy wings gleaming in the sunlight, edged by white fire as he turned to face Spock and was backlit by the bright midday sun.

But Jim, after shooting him a brief puzzled look, was straight into command mode, "Geoff, get the team to set up the camp. Spock and I will reconnoitre the local terrain. We're the best equipped to do that."

Geoff M'Benga said, "Aye, sir," and happily started giving directions to the ground crew.

Jim nodded to Spock, who walked with him away from the shuttle crew and flicked his wings out, shaking them slightly and then beginning to flap slowly. They both rose slowly into the air, Jim looking down at the crew who rapidly shrank in size until they looked like ants beside the small stream they were camping beside.

They flew slowly around the campsite, getting their bearings, then flew off in a large expanding spiral around the campsite. The sun warmed Jim even through his feathers, and he glanced up at Spock and admired the liquid sheen on his glossy black wings. Flying was surprisingly noisy, the beating of his wings a regular thumping whoosh that made it difficult to hear when Spock called out anything to him, so after a few calls to each other they lapsed into a relaxed silence and simply observed the terrain far below them. This part of the small plateau was a little better vegetated than the barren, rocky caverns where they had originally landed. Occasionally, small trees bearing complex looking fruits struggled forth from the rocks. Jim reminded himself to have M'Benga test the fruit for edibility later.

They circled the plateau and inspected the countryside from above. They had been flying for only about five minutes, though, when Jim whistled to Spock and indicated a rocky outcrop beneath them. On top of the outcrop was what appeared to be a small, oddly asymmetrical pile of sandy-coloured feathers thrown onto the rocks. Spock frowned, then signalled caution to Jim and began to spiral slowly, silently down. Jim followed.

They hovered in a small circle for a few minutes and surveyed the pile of feathers. It looked like a large bird had fallen asleep on the rock. They drifted slowly down towards the shape, only about fifty metres above it now. Jim turned back to Spock…. then yelled in alarm and pulled the Vulcan aside as a silent, deadly black ball of feathers tumbled past them, then spun around, heading for Jim, fast.

Spock's reaction was near-instinctive, pulling out his phaser and flicking it to the harmless stun setting, and phasering the alien before it could strike Jim.

The alien slumped and plummeted towards the ground. Stun setting, realised Spock an instant later, is not that harmless when you are hit fifty metres above rocky ground. He spun and dived towards the black helpless form, but heard a cry of "Noooo!" from below him and saw the pile of feathers, apparently awoken by Jim's shout and the strange trill of the phaser, shoot upwards and then dive alongside the black form, snatching at it and swooping so close to the rocks that Spock held his breath… before the pair skimmed along the ground, slowed, and came to a bumpy landing on the ground below.

Spock turned as Jim flew up behind him, silently watching… then they scrambled for cover as a series of three bangs came from the figures on the ground. But there was no cover up here. Jim grunted, and flapped weakly, and Spock winced as two bullets hit his feathers, then his wing. He could still fly, though, and grabbed Jim and flapped strongly as Jim groaned in his arms. Spock flapped downwards and lowered them onto the ground near the rocks where the sandy coloured alien had apparently been sleeping.

"What are your injuries, Captain?" he asked, checking for red blood over Jim's torso.

"Arm," hissed Jim, and Spock found a through and through bullet hole in Jim's arm, bleeding but not too badly. Quickly he tore Jim's sleeve off and used it as a bandage, stemming the bleeding a little. He breathed a sigh of relief, then froze as a mild voice above them said, "Tell me what you've done to him or I'll do more than wing you both."

Spock looked up into dark blue, very human, very angry eyes, and realised two things. One, with a primitive weapon like that the man had managed to get off three deadly accurate shots against two fast-moving moving targets, firing into the sun, and deliberately bring Jim and himself down to the ground at a range of fifty metres. Two, the man probably would not kill both of them, because he needed information from them. He obviously did not understand the stun mechanism. Spock thought about it for a second and said, "He is immobilised. He can be restored, but you will need to use the facilities back at our camp." (It was not quite a lie. M'Benga could hasten the recovery from a phaser stun using the stimulants he had at the camp. Anyway, in a pinch, Spock considered himself not quite a Vulcan. The logic almost held. It would suffice for now, he decided.)

"Which is where?" the voice was soft, but still sent a soft chill down Spock's spine. Then the gunman looked at Spock carefully, and turned the gun slowly towards Jim, but all the while watching Spock. He moved his thumb on what Spock believed was the cocking mechanism of the device, and Spock swallowed, "We will take you there."

"You almost killed him," said the man, and jumped down off the rocks and stood before them. Spock realised that he was shorter than Jim.

Spock explained, "He attacked us with no warning. I reacted instinctively."

"Your first reaction is to shoot to kill, then, is it?" asked the man smoothly, and the gun did not waver.

"He wasn't shooting to kill, the phaser was set on stun," argued Jim.

"Makes no different at that height," said the man coldly.

"We're not used to… this. Spock did not mean to harm him," explained Jim.

"Spock?" The gun wavered.

"Yes."

The man held the gun up for a moment longer, then backed away a few paces and holstered the gun. He stared at them, looking carefully at their injuries and watching their faces for any signs of hostile intent, "So he'll recover soon?"

Spock nodded at something behind him, and the man laughed softly, "No, there's no-one on this rock but Dick and me and you, so you can forget that trick."

"John?" the voice was a remarkably deep baritone, rich and seductive in quality. Jim felt himself shiver involuntarily.

The gunman did not take his eyes off them, "They're busy explaining why I should not kill them both, Dick."

There was a brief hesitation, then Dick said, still sounding muzzy, "Leave it, they're fine, they're not going to do anything."

"How do you know?" asked John, still glaring at Jim and Spock.

"Their weapons have two settings," said the man behind the gunman, stepping closer and looking over John's shoulder curiously at them.

"So?"

"Why would they need any more than one setting, stun or kill, if it makes no difference in the air?" pointed out Dick. "They're more new here than we are."

John pursed his lips and finally took his eyes off Jim and Spock, much to their relief. John turned to Dick and said, "You okay?"

"Did I fall?"

"No, I caught you this time," and John looked remarkably happy about that, noticed Jim.

Dick chuckled warmly, "Planning on making it a habit?" and they both grinned.

Spock was eyeing them quizzically, and as the one called Dick stepped up beside John, the Star Fleet officers got a good look at the two men.

John was short, sandy-haired, forty-ish looking, and at first glance looked like the sort of person you'd see working in a computer library or on a space station: mild mannered and what used to be called bookish. But that was at first glance. Then you might notice the steel behind those midnight blue eyes, the set to the patient mouth, the power in the small, compact body. His head and shoulders were tilted a little, probably from always having to look up at other people, thought Jim. His wings were sandy and oddly shaded, with intricate patterns near the tips.

Dick was as tall and lanky as Spock, with a mop of glossy black curls and an aristocratic, pale face. He moved with all the awkwardness of a gangly teenager, but having seen him in action both Spock and Jim knew that was very deceptive. He was lean and exceedingly fast. His eyes were an amazing shade of silvery grey, dark-rimmed irises flecked with green sometimes, seeming to change colour with every thought crossing his mind. His wings were the same silky blue-black as Spock's but a little more curly, and a smaller span by some metres.

"We mean you no harm," said Jim quietly.

"Oh, I know that. I know what you're doing here, too…" said Dick. He walked over to look at Jim more closely. He circled him and then stopped in front of him, looking into Jim's eyes and smiling suddenly. Jim shivered again, not sure if it was the deep voice or the silvery wolf-like eyes making him react like that. Dick glanced over at Spock, then looked back into Jim's eyes, and asked, "…but do you?"

**Chapter Eight**

"What do you know about what we're doing here?" asked Jim.

But Dick was looking at Spock's wingspan with sudden calculation, then frowned and stepped towards Spock. His eyes narrowed, "You are military. You are from some sort of interplanetary alliance."

Jim said to Dick, "I'm Jim, this is Spock. How do you know we are military?"

"Same way he knew I was," smiled John. Jim looked at Dick and Spock, who were still eyeing each warily.

Dick, now that he seemed to have decided that they were not a threat, was pacing around them and inspecting them in a slightly unnerving way. Spock watched him warily. Eventually Dick flicked his wings and seemed satisfied, then suddenly said, "We claim refugee status with your alliance."

Jim's mouth dropped open, "Now wait just a damned moment…."

"Are you denying us our claim?" asked Dick in a menacing tone.

"Well, no… but you can't just…."

"I'll wager we _can_ just."

"Jim, they actually have every right…." began Spock, and Jim turned and gave him an exasperated look, so Spock subsided.

"How in the Galaxy, did you figure out that the Federation has refugee laws, and what they are? In fact, how do you know that the Federation even exists?" demanded Jim.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" asked Dick, and looked hopefully at Jim, who shook his head, then at Spock. To Dick's evident immense delight, Spock stated, "He saw my wingspan, Jim."

"So?" asked John and Jim together, and both turned and looked at each other, surprised.

Dick walked up and peered at Spock intently, and asked in a hushed tone, "Go on?"

"My wing span is far greater than yours, Jim, but I appear to have approximately the same body volume. Therefore my body mass must be much higher, implying a denser physiology, implying a higher gravity planet. The pointed ears and straight eyebrows could be racial variations from the same planet, but density of physiology… no. So, this leads to the conclusion that you and I are natives of different planets. That and the fact that we are wearing the same uniform, informed him that we must be part of some sort of interplanetary alliance. Such an alliance, combined with the disparity between our species, would no doubt have sophisticated refugee laws, which in all probability would include a clause covering the treatment of marooned and displaced persons of any race or culture."

Dick's eyes were glowing with delight, and he turned to John, "I like him," he said, indicating Spock, "He's logical." He looked back at Spock.

Spock looked mildly smug, and inclined his head in a gracious nod.

Jim looked at the strange light in Dick's eyes as he looked at Spock, and said huffily, "Well, it looks like you found yourself a like-minded companion, Spock." The others all looked at him oddly, and he asked Dick, "You want to tell your story from the beginning?"

"Oh, no. You first," demurred Dick, "Your story must be so much less boring," but he was still circling Spock, looking almost mesmerised, and said, "Can you move them?"

"I assume you mean my ears. Yes, but only a little. Not much more than a human can."

"I don't see the advantage in their shape."

"There is no auditory advantage, rather, they are a secondary se-" Spock suddenly looked profoundly embarrassed, and pointedly did not look at Jim.

"Oh… does he know that?" asked Dick mischievously, glancing at Jim.

John intervened, changing the subject, "I'm sorry we can't offer you a cup of tea."

"We can," smiled Jim, and John's eyes lit up like Christmas, "You have tea? Real tea?"

Jim slipped a canister from his belt and said, "Fifteen varieties, or coffee. You're human, right? What would you like?"

"Tea," grinned John, "One white, no sugar, the other black with two sugars." He then watched entranced as Jim slipped four flat discs from the base of the canister and pushed them slightly so that they opened into cups, then set a few controls on the canister. The tangy aroma of hot tea filled the air, and Dick and John almost reverently accepted the proffered cups.

They all sat down on the rocks, but Jim noticed that both Dick and Spock sat carefully between their respective companions. Then he noticed something else: Dick was sitting close to John and casually let their knees bump against each other as they sat sipping their coffee. Jim found himself wondering if there was more than friendship between them.

"Yes, there is," said Dick quietly, looking directly at Jim, "Just as there is with you."

Jim looked at him, glanced at Spock, then looked back at Dick, "You can read my thoughts?"

"All the time. Although it's easier here, with just John, I must admit. Not so much chatter."

"How did you get here?" asked Spock.

Dick looked troubled, and John looked away, then said, "We don't remember much."

Dick said warily, "I can remember falling….."

He glanced at John, who said a little shakily, "And I can remember watching him fall….."

"But that's it," said Dick, "There's nothing more."

"Were you flying, before you fell?" asked Jim.

"No. We didn't have wings," said Dick.

"We woke up with wings," added John, looking at Dick for a second as though he were remembering something sacred, then shutting his expression off quickly.

"How long have you been here?" asked Jim.

"Three hundred and four days," answered Dick absently, looking at Jim curiously, "Are you human?" he asked Jim suddenly.

"Yes," frowned Jim.

"Are you quite sure?" asked Dick.

Jim raised both eyebrows and looked at Spock. Spock looked at Dick with a frown and said, "So you two don't remember anything much before being here, but you have figured out what human means, and that there are other planets?"

"John thinks of himself as human," stated Dick, "But there are certain ways in which he is not adapted to this planet, despite the wings. So we obviously have come from elsewhere. We have seen enough since arriving here to know that other races exist."

"So you have lost most of the recent memories of your lives, but you have some recall of earlier events?" asked Jim thoughtfully, "That's funny, it didn't happen like that to us. We just had a brief period of memory loss surrounding our abduction, say a few hours."

"Oh, no, it was much longer with us. Possibly years," stated Dick, "But we have no way of telling."

"I wonder why the difference?" piped up John. No-one had an answer.

"What can you tell us about this planet?" queried Spock.

"Not much," answered Dick with an air of indifference, "Except that it's pretty barren and I doubt that life could have evolved here naturally."

Jim looked suddenly interested, and his eyes lit up as he said, "Ahh….."

They all looked at him.

"So maybe, it evolved here artificially?" suggested Jim.

Dick and Spock looked at him intently, and John said, "Artificially?"

"The sweeps," realised Spock.

Jim nodded, "Not a weapon. You were right, Spock. A booster field, perhaps?"

"To boost mutations and accelerate evolution?" pondered Spock.

"But why?" asked Dick, his eyes alight with interest.

"Maybe… for the reason you just said," suggested John, who was now following the conversation with apparent delight, "Because life couldn't evolve naturally?"

Jim was nodding again, "Of course… a different version of the Genesis device. Slower, simpler perhaps, but they could deploy it on a planet and accelerate the natural evolutionary process and make it more productive…."

"Wouldn't that pose certain dangers?" asked Dick, "What if, say, the insect population evolved into larger more intelligent beings? Or if the T-Rex got five times bigger? What if humans…."

"Sprouted wings?" suggested Jim, wryly, and Dick shrugged.

"Or… became a lot smarter?" replied Dick.

"I don't think it's worked on me," said John sadly.

"Nor me," commented Spock, "But I am not quite human. What about you, Jim?"

John was staring curiously at Spock, until Dick gave him an odd look and John smiled and looked away.

Jim was thinking about Spock's question, "Not that I have noticed. You'd know better than me, though, Spock. Do I seem smarter?"

"I doubt it. Spock would have expressed his relief by now, if you did," said Dick absently.

"Dick!" growled John, "Manners!"

"What?" asked Dick, looking genuinely puzzled, and Spock almost smiled.

"I'm sorry, it doesn't seem to have evolved his social skills to a higher level," apologised John.

"It doesn't matter, I'm used to being around aliens that are smarter than me," grinned Jim.

"He usually baits them," warned Spock mischievously, earning him an incredulous look from Jim.

John looked speculatively at Dick, and asked, "So Spock, you don't think Dick is human?"

"Do you?" asked Spock.

John laughed, and Dick frowned, then asked, "Interesting. Where would you estimate I am from?"

Jim looked at him oddly, and Spock hesitated before offering, "Earth, probably, given the accent, but that accent is quite strongly parochial, not the homogenised accent of modern Earth. Therefore I would say you have both been temporally displaced, thus the severe memory loss. It is a characteristic of ill-prepared time travel."

"Damn," whispered John.

"What year is this?" asked Dick, quietly.

"Two thousand, three hundred and forty-seven," answered Spock.

"Oh, my God," whispered John.

"What?" asked Jim.

"Lestrade, Molly, Mrs Hudson… all dead?" asked John of Dick, looking devastated.

"Who?" asked Dick.

John heaved a shuddering sigh, and Dick instinctively reached out a hand to his shoulder, then pulled it back, looking at the other two and looking embarrassed.

"It's all right," said Jim quietly, "We don't mind."

"So," Dick looked at them as he put a comforting arm around John, "You _have_ evolved."

Jim smiled, "In that area, yeah."

Spock's face remained impassive, and he stared at the horizon, then looked back at Jim, "If they have been temporally displaced forward, then there is little danger of them causing an anomaly in the current space-time continuum. They now have a valid claim for refugee status, based on positive temporal displacement alone." Spock looked across at the other two men, his face unreadable.

Jim walked over to Dick and asked, "If you suffered forward temporal displacement, your memory loss is probably permanent. Do you mind telling us, what you do remember?"

"That," admitted Dick, "Would be an ambitious project. My recall is quite comprehensive, but does not extend much beyond the point where I first met John here."

"Were you partners back then? Before?" asked Jim.

"I don't know," frowned Dick.

John's voice was indignant, "I'm not gay."

"No. Right." said Jim thoughtfully, and looked to Dick for clarification.

Dick shrugged, "It's just something he says sometimes. I have no idea why."

"It is of no concern to us," shrugged Spock.

John looked up slowly, "So… it's all fine now, is it?"

"Of course it is, John, you should have seen that within three seconds of meeting them," admonished Dick.

"Oh. Sorry, I missed the brain evolution beam this time around," smiled John tiredly, "So I got something wrong, get over it."

"Oh, that's alright, I'm quite used to it. I keep telling me you have my name completely wrong."

"No I don't."

"I find it perplexing that you remember everyone else's name but mine."

"And I keep telling you, you are absolutely a Dick."

Dick raised an expressive eyebrow and Jim nearly choked, but said instead, "So, you've been marooned for over three hundred days-"

He was instantly corrected in stereo by Spock and Dick, "Three hundred and four."

Jim went on doggedly, leaving the two to stare each other down indignantly, " – how does a warm tent and a hot shower sound?"

"Oh, God yes," said John, and Dick smiled at him and said, "Wither thou goest…."

"We will followeth, with our towels," smiled John.

"You have towels?" asked Jim.

"Yes, strangely enough, they apparently came with the wings," puzzled John.

"We did not receive towels," Spock pointed out to Jim.

"No. Maybe somebody was quite well aware that we came with a space ship?" suggested Jim, gazing about him warily.

"Surveillance," commented Dick, with a frown, "The sort of thing that my….." he stopped and looked puzzled, and a little sad, repeating, "My….."

"What is it?" asked Jim.

"Some of the things we don't remember…. they upset him," said John.

**Chapter Nine**

"Jim," said Spock quietly, turning away almost reluctantly from the other two and pulling Jim aside.

"Yes?"

"The situation they described, Dick falling and John watching him…. life threatening, something that happened on your Earth probably, about three hundred years ago…. they were probably plucked from there. That indicates a powerful alien race, with influence extending far beyond this star system, existing hundreds of years ago, controlling time…."

"A very advanced civilisation indeed," agreed Jim, "But what happened to them? Where are they? There's no sign of them on this planet."

"They may be still here, just not choosing to show themselves," suggested Spock, looking around the rocky outcrop and out towards the horizon, "In which case they could easily manipulate any scientific tests we perform, not allow us to see accurate results… we could be wasting our time attempting this study."

"We've saved two lives already, Spock. I wouldn't call that a waste of time."

Spock tilted his head thoughtfully, "You seem quite taken by these two refugees, Jim."

Jim gave Spock that particular smile of his that always succeeded in melting the cold Vulcan reserve instantly. Spock thought of it as his sehlat-cub smile, "Don't you like them, Spock?"

"I do not understand…" began Spock.

"You… ah, you're not blind, Spock, you can see how…. the affection between them…." Jim struggled for the right words, and finished lamely with, "It's just so damned… cute."

Spock stared at him as though he had grown horns and a tail, "Cute? They shot at us."

"Hey, you fired the first shot. But they're cute. It's sweet."

Spock looked around them in some alarm, and asked, "Is it possible that the evolutionary beam has passed us over again and caused some anomaly in your mental processes, Captain?"

"Get lost, Spock," grinned Jim, then looked thoughtful, "But I wonder why the aliens saved these two in particular? I mean, why pluck them out of their century and bring them here?"

"Maybe the aliens thought they were 'cute' too," suggested Spock, deadpan.

Jim shot him a look, smiled and walked back over to John and Dick, "Are you up to flying?" he asked John.

"Yeah- how did you know-" John began.

Jim laughed, "That you were hurt too? You were resting alone. If you were well, you both would have been resting together."

Dick looked at him and said, "He can fly. He hurt his leg yesterday and I was looking for some food while he rested."

"How badly hurt is your leg?" asked Jim.

"Oh, it's okay, just a sprained ankle. Not such a big issue when you have these," said John, glancing up at the wings above them all.

"True," agreed Jim, "Well, if you follow us, we can show you that warm tent and hot shower."

"Okay," grinned John, "I tell you what, it's nice to have some company, too."

Dick shot him a look and asked archly, "Am I not sufficient company for you?"

John looked as though he were contemplating a diplomatic answer, then sighed and said simply, "I meant human company."

Jim laughed, and Spock and Dick exchanged glances. Dick retreated into a huffy silence.

John continued quietly, "I must say, it's a bit unnerving when you wake up with angel's wings and realise that Heaven is practically empty."

Dick frowned at him but Jim chuckled and said, "Coming?" and they all stepped apart and began to flap their wings, rising into the sky. Jim noticed that Dick took up exactly the same protective position over John as Spock automatically took up over Jim as they flew back toward the now rapidly establishing camp.

M'Benga squinted up from the encampment below and saw four sets of wings, two jet-black, one white and gold, and one gold, above them, "Heads up, lads," he called to the security guards, "They've brought company."

Then as the four landed in a whoosh of wings, M'Benga smelled copper and iron, and demanded, "Who's bleeding? What was that, fifteen minutes?" He muttered under his breath as he triaged them all.

"You human?" he queried Dick.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" complained Dick.

**Chapter Ten**

Jim woke up the next morning in the warm tent and reached out, hand batting at the other half of the conjoined sleeping bags. He lifted his head. He would dearly love to have rolled over and stretched, but the wings prevented that, just as they prevented him from sleeping in his favourite position on his back. He sighed.

"Spock?" he mumbled, still half asleep, and was about to call out a little louder, then caught himself. He remember that Spock had set the tent to sound proof against outgoing noises the night before, so would not hear him from outside, even though Jim could hear all the noises of movement and voices around him in the camp. He unzipped the sleeping bags from each other and hastily zipped them back up as individual bags, then hunted for his clothes.

He dressed quickly and crawled awkwardly out of the tent, pulling one wing, then the other, through the narrow tent opening. He could finally stand up and flicked his wings upwards to their full extent, lifting his arms at the same time and having a good stretch.

He looked around. John was closest to him, sitting at a long camp table eating what looked like fried eggs and bacon on toast. M'Benga and two of his assistants were also sitting there eating. Jim looked at John again and wondered if winged creatures eating eggs could be considered vaguely cannibalistic, but on second thoughts was too sleepy to care.

"Morning," said John cheerfully, looking up from his meal.

"Hi," mumbled Jim, heading for the steaming coffee pot he saw standing further along the table. M'Benga and his aides looked up and muttered sleepy greetings.

Jim spotted Spock at the other end of the table, sitting staring at a three dimensional chess board, which had most of the pieces left on it, but not, Jim noted, the black king. Spock usually played black. Jim frowned and spied the milk sitting near John, said, "Excuse me," and reached past John for the milk.

John passed him the milk with a grin.

"What are you so cheerful about?" asked Jim, blinking owlishly at John.

"Spock," smiled John.

Jim looked along the table at Spock, who did not seem to have noticed Jim. In fact, he was sitting staring at the chess board in front of him as though, if he stared long enough, it would soon reveal some deep, dark magical secret. His mouth was slightly open and Jim thought, for a strange moment, that the Vulcan almost appeared to be in a slight state of shock.

"Is he okay?" Jim asked, confused.

"I don't know," smiled John, "He just taught Dick how to play that multi-layered chess game."

"Oh," mumbled Jim, then comprehension slowly seeped into his brain. He had seen that look before, the first day that Spock had first played Jim at 3 -D chess, "Wait…. Dick didn't…. he didn't beat Spock, did he?"

John grinned, "Of course he did."

"Damn," said Jim, "I think I'd better make him a coffee."

John was still grinning, "I think he needs a hug. Dick told him the game was boring."

Jim was starting to smile now, "He did, did he? I think Spock might need therapy. By the way, where's Dick now?"

"Oh, M'Benga gave him something to dissect over in the laboratory tent."

"You found a specimen to dissect?"

Geoff M'Benga said, "No, I let him loose on that training tape, you know, the virtual dissection program. I think he's getting a crash course in xenobiology. When I left him he was eyeing off a virtual Vulcan corpse. He seemed quite happy."

Jim stood up and wandered over to Spock, "Morning."

Spock looked up at him, and said, "Good morning, Captain," with a glazed look in his eyes.

"What's up, Spock?"

Spock's eyes darted immediately towards the laboratory tent, then back to the chess board, and finally up to Jim. He took a deep breath and said calmly, "He is emotional."

"I'm sorry, you're going to have to help me out here, who?"

"Dick," hissed Spock through neutrally clenched teeth.

"Oh. I wouldn't have said so, but… you've known him for an hour or two longer than I have by now, I guess. Problem?"

Spock stared back at the chess board. Jim took a good look at the chess pieces, and said, "How many moves?"

"Seven," breathed Spock in the same flat tone that he used to report security personnel losses. He looked up at Jim and sighed, regaining some of his Vulcan composure, "He flaunts his emotionality, and yet his mind…."

"Oh, no…" breathed Jim in an exaggerated tone of sympathy, "Not another one like me…."

"No, Jim, you control your emotions, or at least try… he flaunts his. He not merely lacks control, he…. deliberately enhances his emotional reactions," said Spock, as though such behaviour was the worst form of evil that the Vulcan could imagine.

Jim was chuckling, "He crowed about his victory, didn't he?"

Spock looked towards the laboratory with an expression of repressed distaste on his face that rivalled the time Jim saw him look at a Tellurite banquet table laden with meats.

Spock pulled the chess game towards himself and started packing it up.

Jim said, "So, apart from his disgustingly emotional behaviour and his unfortunate talent for chess, what other endearing properties does our Dick have?"

Spock looked at him archly, and said, "None."

Jim smiled, "Not going to offer me a game?"

"If you wish."

"Nah, too early in the morning for me. So he's pretty smart?"

"Captain, if he had a month's training and were 'gunning' for my job, I would be deeply concerned."

Jim looked impressed, "Wow. Maybe we should keep him on board the Enterprise."

"You wish to replace me?"

"No! No. I just mean that coming from you, that's quite a recommendation. We should probably train him up, he might make a valuable officer."

"You would have to take John too."

"If they'd like. John seems amiable enough. A crack shot, too," remembered Jim, rubbing his arm.

Spock stood up, and Jim put an arm around his shoulders, entwining their wings and earning him a raised eyebrow from M'Benga, looking sidelong at them from his position at the other end of the table.

"Come on, Spock, you look like you could use a coffee," said Jim.

Spock nodded, and M'Benga frowned as he noticed the Vulcan lean fractionally towards his captain before allowing Jim to walk him up alongside the table towards the coffee pot, Jim's arm still over Spock's shoulder.

John looked up from his meal at them approaching, and then ducked his head, his expression unreadable. Jim stepped away from Spock to make him a coffee, and Spock stood looking lost in thought.

Just then Dick emerged from the laboratory tent and strolled over to them, watching Spock, categorising in his mind the new vital organ positioning that he would have to use were he to ever come up against a Vulcan in combat. John looked at him, and said, "Don't."

"Why not?"

"It's rude."

"Boring. Oh, John?"

"What, Sh-Dick?" He shook his head as though it hurt for a moment.

"You should see their computer system. Just the virtual reality programs are amazing. The library that Spock said was 'limited' is fantastic," Dick enthused. He was standing close to John, and leaned over to grab a cup and pour himself a coffee. He stood up and stirred his coffee, bringing his wings close to John.

"So, good. You not bored for once? That is good," smiled John, beginning to fiddle absently with a couple of crooked feathers on the black wing next to him, smoothing them out and tucking them back in alignment with the others. Dick glanced at him and seemed to ignore the attention, then smiled and suddenly looked up at the sky.

"If this is what they consider a rough camp, I can't wait to get on board their ship."

Jim smiled, and pointed down to his feet and to their right, "Actually, common mistake. The ship headed off that way."

Dick said, "Oh, thank you."

John asked Jim, "How many crew members do you have?"

"Four hundred and thirty," answered Jim casually.

John whistled, "Holy… how big is this ship of yours?"

"Big enough to keep Dick entertained for ages," smiled Jim, hefting a wing up slightly as he felt a strange tickling sensation in two of his feathers. He realised that is was just Spock, straightening out a crooked feather on his wing tip, and relaxed.

Spock look worried, considering the prospect of Dick on the Enterprise.

Geoff M'Benga grumbled, "Can you lot stop…. preening each other? It's getting on my nerves."

The all looked at him, surprised, and John and Spock looked almost guilty and stopped what they were doing, looking anywhere but at Dick and Jim, who suddenly found their coffees very interesting. John stood up abruptly and asked, "Well, what's on the agenda for today?"

"I guess we should start finding out what life forms there are on this planet, and see if we can find any evidence of where that evolution beam is generated," suggested Jim, and Spock nodded his agreement.

"Oh good… flying," smiled Dick, and flicked his black wings up with a bang, "Where to?"

**Chapter Eleven**

Jim looked suspiciously at Dick and Spock. Spock was not scanning. Instead he was listening with a rapt and mildly horrified non-expression to something Dick was saying, nodding his head slowly. At one stage Spock looked up at John and said, "Really?" then looked over speculatively at Jim, then straight up in the air. It was making Jim's wings flick nervously. He edged over towards the pair, only to be stopped by a quiet, "I wouldn't," from John, who was standing openly staring at the two tall, black winged men.

"Oh?" asked Jim. He was still not quite used to having John around… he was so military that Jim had the constant urge to give him orders, then had to stop himself when he realised that John was not under his command. It was unsettling. Even more unsettling was the strange rapport which seemed to be developing between Dick and Spock, despite the fact that Dick had managed to drive the Vulcan almost to distraction on occasion over the last few weeks with his constant questions.

"It'll only encourage him if he thinks you're curious," muttered John.

Jim fumed, "What would you suggest I do, then?"

"Stay calm and keep scanning," said John stolidly.

Jim stared at the sandy-haired man. At first John had struck him as sociable, amiable, friendly, easy-going…. But now Jim was starting to see deeper into the man's character, and it was a surprising vista. John was amiable, sure, and followed all the social norms, smiling when expected, being concerned when expected…. but Jim had discovered that as for underlying emotional control, John could rival Sarek of Vulcan for being uber-cool. Jim suspected that that's how John put up with Dick's mercurial behaviour without batting an eyelid. And yet, despite Dick's borderline sociopathic personality, John seemed devoted to the man, or whatever Dick was. And not just 'I'm not gay and he's my best friend' type-devoted, either. Jim was convinced that John would take a phaser hit for Dick and vice versa, and Jim's only concern, if an assassination attempt on their small flying group of four was ever made, was that every one of them would be so busy trying to protect each other that they'd all get shot. The thought made Jim smile, but a little bit crookedly.

Just then one of those peculiar changes of wind direction that carries voices improbably long distances brought Dick's voice as clear as day to John and Jim. The deep baritone voice was saying, "They wriggle, Spock, then they go rigid. They know they're going to die, and then they lock their eyes onto you, and then they give themselves to you, completely, just for those last few seconds, and it's… indescribable…."

"What the fuck?" swore Jim, and swapped an annoyed glance with John before they both spun on their heels and strode towards Dick and Spock.

John snapped out crisply at Dick, "If you're describing what I think you're describing, Dick-"

"Just swapping notes with Spock here," said Dick coolly, and strolled away.

Jim stared at the look on Spock's face. The Vulcan looked practically mesmerised, his eyes locked on Jim, his lips slightly parted, his face slightly flushed… if Jim didn't know better, he would swear that whatever Dick had been saying to Spock, had left the Vulcan turned on.

Jim had to call the Vulcan's name twice before Spock responded, and said hoarsely, "Ye-yes, sir?"

"Walk with me," suggested Jim, towing Spock by the arm and leading him quickly away from John, who was striding in the opposite direction anyway, heading for Dick.

When they were out of earshot, Jim asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, sir," breathed Spock. But the dark eyes were still slightly glazed, and Spock was looking at Jim oddly.

"What the hell was that all about?"

"It was a private conversation, sir."

Jim glowered at Spock, but then the Vulcan looked at him and said, lust filling his eyes so that even looking at it made Jim a little dizzy, "The results of which I will demonstrate to you as soon as an opportunity presents itself, _sir_." The last 'sir' was breathed in a hushed, almost reverent tone of voice that sent a shiver down Jim's spine.

"Jesus, you two were swapping notes. Oh, God!" exclaimed Jim.

Spock smiled.

"Be careful, Spock, he's dangerous."

"In the nicest possible way," said Spock, deadpan, and walked off towards the scanning equipment.

Jim hesitated, then strode over to Dick, and said, "What the hell were you talking about to my first officer? If I find that you are in any way inciting my crew to… anything, I'll leave you on this godforsaken rock!"

Dick peered down his nose at Jim, his eyes lighting up, "Jealous?"

Jim spluttered, and John said, "Oh, for God's sake, Dick, you-"

"Remember what I said," growled Jim, and turned to walk away. Behind him, he heard John say, "Now what the hell did you have to go and do that for, and if you tell me you're bored I'll clip your bloody wings!"

"Well, I am. We've been 'rescued' now for three weeks and they aren't getting anywhere with this investigation."

"Well what did you expect, that they'd be able to figure it out in three weeks when you couldn't in seven months?"

Jim walked out of earshot, and John and Dick lowered their voices, but continued talking.

"Well, why did they send their ship away for six weeks, then? I want to see their space ship," grumbled Dick.

"How were they supposed to know there was nothing to figure out?"

"I thought they'd be intelligent. Spock and Jim are the only ones who aren't boring. And they've been playing with boring people for so long they've forgotten what it's like to have fun."

"Oh, you are in a right foul snit, aren't you? What's got up your nose?"

Spock had drifted closer, and now walked past them smugly. Dick glared at him. John stared at the two of them and said, "Wait, wait… what the hell? What are you two up to?"

"Nothing," sulked Dick.

"I beat him at chess," said Spock calmly, "And will continue to do so, now that his strategic weaknesses have become clear to me. Oh, and Dick?"

"What?"

"I believe I do still, however, owe you a dare from our last match," said Spock.

Dick grinned evilly, and walked over to whisper something in Spock's ear. Spock went white, but nodded.

"Fuck," whispered John to himself, and jogged over to Jim, who had busied himself with a life form scanner.

"What?" snapped the Captain, looking up from his scanner irritably.

"We have to stop them," said John.

Jim looked at him, registering his worried expression, "What's wrong? You never look worried."

"Spock and Dick are playing chess for truth or dare."

Jim swore in a language which John had never heard before. He threw down the scanner with a clatter and stalked, on a mission, towards Dick and Spock.

But as they walked up, Spock stepped forward and before Jim could say anything, grabbed Jim by both arms and stopped him, then leaned down to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. Jim found himself unable to speak for various reasons, physical and psychological. He stood helplessly as Spock put his hands around Jim's waist and pulled their bodies together, kissing him intensely. Jim felt his legs giving out from under him, and his wings instinctively flapped a couple of times to keep him upright. Dick smiled smugly.

After a moment Dick walked past them, leaning in as he did so, and said, "You can stop now, Spock. I'll take the dare as done."

Jim saw Spock's eyes slip sideways and glance at Dick, then back to him, but instead of stopping as Jim half expected, Spock deepened the kiss, and pulled Jim a little closer, giving no signs of stopping. When the Vulcan did pull back a minute later, it was to whisper in Jim's ear, "I want you… now."

"Spock and I are going for a bit of a fly around."

"We won't wait up," called Dick airily, and all three of the others glared at him.

"Jim, come on," breathed Spock, and impatiently pulled Jim's hand. They stepped apart to flap their wings and take off. Jim was relieved to feel the cold rush of air and stop working for a while. Dick was right: they were getting no-where fast with their investigation of this planet and they were all getting cabin fever.

Back down on the rocks, John strolled over to Dick, "You know you shouldn't do that to them," he smiled. Dick rubbed his eyes and groaned, as though he were in physical pain, and said nothing.

"You that bored?" asked John quietly.

"Beyond that," moaned Dick.

John asked, "I thought Spock was teaching you their mathematics?"

"Last week."

"Computing?"

"Got it."

"Obviously you've got chess, too," smiled John, "Music?"

"Music?" asked Dick, "Will you listen to yourself?"

"You just want to get your hands on that space ship," accused John.

"Oh….. when?" howled Dick, pacing restlessly, "It's like a great fish tank and I'm the cat and it's behind glass…."

"Travelling faster than light….I can see that suiting your personality," agreed John, "But you know the space ship won't be yours. You do realise that you won't just be able to do anything that you like with it, don't you, Dick?"

Dick shot him a wicked smile, then looked where Spock and Jim had disappeared off to, in the sky.

"Which one did you tell him?" demanded John.

"What?"

"Which one of your insane methods of lovemaking did you describe to Spock?" asked John, nodding up at the sky, "Tell me not the death-roll?"

"Yes," smiled Dick, "They should be naked by now."

"Holy Mary, Jim is not going to forgive you for that. That one scared the crap out of me for the first ten times."

"But you came. You came, John, every time."

"I was screaming, Dick. I didn't even notice."

"I did," smiled Dick, laughing up at the sky, then looking darkly down at his feet, "What else can I do with them for three more weeks?"

**Chapter Twelve**

Spock led them up to a distant, stunningly tall mesa. From a distance, they could just see that the top had some green foliage across it. He circled thoughtfully and landed in a grassy hollow in the rocks, which effectively blocked them from view from anywhere else on the mesa.

Jim landed, and was immediately pounced on by the Vulcan, who tugged impatiently at Jim's clothes and said, "Get these off," all the while hindering Jim by kissing him passionately, running his mouth up and down Jim's neck, nipping occasionally, the sting of it making Jim wary and aroused all at once.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…. what's got into you, Spock?"

Spock tapped Jim's forehead gently, once, and murmured, "An idea."

"I don't need to ask where from…."

Spock got impatient and used his telekinesis, so that all Jim's buttons and fasteners came off at once and his clothes fell to the grass. Jim gasped with the cold of the high altitude on the mesa, and Spock did the same thing to his own clothes. Jim stepped up to him and murmured, "You'll freeze."

"No," murmured Spock, pulling the human close, letting warmth build between them and around their bodies.

"How are you doing that? I feel warm," Jim said, groaning as Spock slowly fell to his knees, inch by inch, kissing a trail of hot kisses straight down his midsection.

"It is partly your own physiological response to sexual arousal," said Spock.

"God, I love it when you talk like that. But, partly? What's the rest?" Jim ran his hands through the soft feathers on Spock's back, up along the strong rounded leading edge of the wings, feeling the silky texture of the small marginal covert feathers flick by rapidly under his fingers. Spock's wings shuddered and the Vulcan closed his eyes. Jim ran his hands up as far as he could, but when his arms were at full stretch he was still far short of where the large round wrist of Spock's wings marked the beginning of the magnificent sweep of the huge primary feathers out to the wing tips.

Spock shook himself and remembered the question, "The telekinesis: it can be used to agitate and warm air molecules and hold a thin layer of them to my body. I do it when I am flying."

"Damn! Why didn't I think of that?" But then all thought by Jim was obviated by Spock kissing his way down further and gently taking Jim's already stirring hardness in hands and mouth. Jim bucked and moaned. Whatever Dick had said to Spock, Jim wanted a transcript so he could put it on the wall in his cabin on the Enterprise.

"Because you are human, Jim." Spock proceeded to demonstrate to Jim just how human he was by plundering his body with hands and mouth until Jim was bucking regularly against the Vulcan, begging to be entered.

Spock glanced up at his mate and froze… the human did not look human. His sculptured body was arched back, his wings, a mixture of pale gold, edged with white, shimmered in the bright sunlight, and his eyes were closed, while on his face was an expression of pure bliss. Spock closed his eyes and reached for the meld, then stopped. He did not want Jim to know his thoughts for this.. not yet. Instead the Vulcan used his tongue and hands and lips to pleasure the human until Jim was shuddering with pleasure, his legs shaking, and Spock was painfully hard. Spock stood slowly, sliding his body up, pushing Jim's thighs gently apart, feeling for the entrance he had already moistened with his tongue and fingers. He used both hands to gently manipulate the human and pushed his blunt member against the panting Jim as he rose up, then he felt a brief moment of almost painful tightness around him, and the human gasped. Spock hesitated, then slowly began to pump his body into Jim's. They both moaned, and for a moment the Vulcan thought his plan was going to come undone, because he thought they were both going to come right then. He clamped down hard on the physical sensations coming through to him and struggled for control…

Jim moaned, and said, "You're killing me, Spock…."

Spock remembered Dick's instructions, and stood up fully, then slowly reached out and pulled Jim's shivering wings into his side, pinning them with his strong Vulcan arms, and wrapping his arms around Jim so that he could not move them, "Not yet," breathed Spock into the human's ear, and crouched, then shot upwards, his own wings pumping hard to lift both of them, up over the surface of the mesa and heading to the edge.

"Wha-" muttered Jim, "Spock, let my wings go."

"I cannot, we would be beating against each other."

"Then put me down," gasped Jim, but Spock could see the human's pupils begin to flare with arousal as he saw the edge of the mesa coming up. Spock thrust his body against Jim's, locking his legs around the human's to pull them together again and again, building up the rhythm of their lovemaking again. Jim gasped, and clung to Spock. Then he gasped again as he saw the edge of the mesa coming up and the fall beyond, "Look out!" he cried, but Spock laughed, because the human started to wriggle, trying to free himself, as they flew out a few hundred metres past the edge of the mesa. Below them was nothing but the rocky ground far, far, below.

"Jesus," whispered Jim, realising belatedly that Spock was still pumping their bodies together, still inside him, "God help me, this is…."

"It gets better," whispered Spock, and tucked his wings forward, tipping Jim over backwards, wings still pinned by Spock's strong arms. Jim fell, and his wings instinctively started trying to wriggle free of Spock's grasp as the massive adrenaline hit of toppling over backwards with nothing to hold him and his wings pinned, three thousand metres above the hard ground, sucked the air out of his lungs and, it felt like, the heart out of his chest. His body protested by going instantly rigid, every muscle tensing, even the ones clenched around Spock.

Spock cried out as the glorious golden body tightened against him and around him to an unbearable degree. Jim let out a single, high moan, then fell silent as the seconds passed and his panicked eyes met Spock's and locked onto him. The Vulcan moaned with delight and felt his body start to pump furiously into Jim, beyond his control. All that Spock knew was the eyes that looked into his, at first panicking, then glazing over, then gazing into his with utter acceptance of his fate. And in those last final moments, when Jim was convinced that something really bad had happened to Spock's mind and that they were actually plummeting to their mutual deaths, Spock saw it, and remembered Dick's words: 'they know they're going to die, and then they lock their eyes onto you, and then they give themselves to you, completely, just for those last few seconds, and it's… indescribable….'

As Spock felt himself begin to come, he suddenly realised that the ground was actually getting awfully close and that he was after all, coming out of a three thousand foot dive with the weight of two bodies to pull out of that dive.

Jim screamed as they both climaxed, rocketing into a pull-out from the dive that made the human's nose bleed and brought them within centimetres of the rock-hard ground. Spock felt something in his wing tear slightly, as he pulled them along and into a series of rolls which took them upwards until they slowed down, then he flapped slowly back towards the ground. He didn't have the energy left to fly both their weights back up to the mesa top just yet, and Jim was a dead weight of exhaustion in his arms.

He landed, and the human jumped aside at the last minute to stop them both crashing to the ground.

Spock turned and helped Jim up, and looked into his eyes. Jim was shaking like a leaf as he took Spock's hand and allowed the exhausted Vulcan to pull him to his feet.

Jim did not say a word, just stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Spock's neck and held him.

Finally the human began to speak, in the barest of whispers, "Fuck, you scared the living daylights out of me, Spock."

Spock held him silently, worried.

Jim looked up into the dark eyes, and said with a happily manic grin, "When can we do it again?"

Spock smiled, one of his rare relaxed smiles, but then felt his legs give out beneath him and said, "I wonder how John hurt his leg that day we found them?"

Jim chuckled, "I'd hazard a guess…."

They sat still, leaning on each other, for a long time, then realised that their clothes were back up on the mesa.

"We'd better go get our clothes," said Jim, standing up and holding out a hand to Spock.

Spock sat with a very odd look on his face, almost as though he were in pain.

"Spock?" asked Jim, "Something wrong?"

Spock tried to speak, but looked as though he were choking for a few moments, then looked startled. Silently he allowed Jim to lift him off the ground, and they both stared at the ground where Spock had been sitting.

There on the reddish rocks sat a single, large, rounded object, glossy black with gold tracery all over it. It took Jim's brain a few seconds to catch up with what he was seeing.

"Is that an egg?"

**Chapter Thirteen**

"Fascinating," Spock heard a voice say, and then realised that it was his voice.

Spock was mesmerised by the egg. It was aesthetically pleasing, more than anything he had seen before in his life. He suddenly realised how fragile it was and that he needed to protect it, and glanced around. There were no dangers around, only Jim, standing there like the egg's personal guardian angel. Spock felt a rush of warmth go through him at that thought, then reality set in as he spotted the somewhat pleading look on Jim's face.

"I am going to wake up any minute now, aren't I, Spock?" asked Jim with a strangely pleading tone that sounded more like a lost little boy than a Starship Captain.

Spock frowned in mild disapproval. Humans. Just when you need them to be at their most reliable, they were prone to lose touch with reality on you.

Jim repeated, "I really am going to wake up quite soon, aren't I?" and turned those bright round human eyes hopefully to Spock, as if Spock could do anything about it.

Jim's voice dropped down a register, slightly back towards him normal tone of voice, as he admonished Spock, "Didn't I tell you to warn me if this was going to happen?"

Spock opened his mouth to speak, but Jim interrupted him, and said, "I did, I remember it clear as day, I said, not five minutes after the first time I saw you with your wings, and I quote verbatim, 'If you're going to lay an egg or something, I want to know in advance.' You have to remember that, don't you Spock?"

Spock closed his mouth, looked up at the hot sun beating down on his lovely, his wonderful, his beautiful egg, and promptly sat down upon the egg and protected it, ignoring Jim's irritating and minor criticisms and locking his gaze onto the horizon.

Jim felt even more panicky. His grasp on reality was starting to feel quite tenuous lately, and he wondered if he had dreamt or hallucinated this whole damn scenario. He looked pleadingly at the sky for a moment, then said, "Spock? Spock?"

He stepped up to the Vulcan and snapped his fingers in front of Spock's nose. No response. Well, in Jim's world, sometimes it was more likely that you were going to beam up, than wake up, so he decided to pull out his communicator. Then he remembered that his ship was still three weeks away, and that he was naked, and so was his first officer, who was sitting on an egg of somewhat dubious origin and appeared to have gone clucky.

"Who the hell can I call about this?" Jim wondered out loud. Who in the galaxy would understand the situation confronting Jim, and really, take it seriously? McCoy would die laughing, even if Jim could reach him. M'Benga, although much more tolerant by nature, wouldn't be far behind.

Jim sighed and flicked out his communicator, somehow sensing that the last person he felt like calling, might be the most logical one to call after all, with his problem.

"John? Is Dick there? Thanks. Hello? I seem to have a bit of a situation here, Dick, I was wondering if you could offer any advice."

Jim waited, listening, then said very seriously, "I… actually, you know, Dick, I'm sorry, I can't bring myself to say it, I just… can't."

He waited again, then suggested, "Spock explained the homing function on these communicators to you, didn't he? Right, well, perhaps you'd better lock onto my signal and fly over here and have a look yourself. Yes? Yes, of course you should bring John. Please, bring John."

Jim sat on the ground and put his head on his knees and wondered if it made him a complete failure as a starship captain and a friend, that he simply could not bring himself to utter the words into the communicator, 'Spock laid an egg.'

But then, after all, so far he hadn't told anyone they were together, and what was so hard about saying, "I'm in love with an alien," really?

Jim decided to try it out loud, without an audience, to see how he would go. He lifted his head to the skies of the strange barren planet and said… nothing.

Jim decided then and there that full disclosure was never going to be one of his strong points. He settled for getting up, walking over and sitting next to Spock and putting his head on the Vulcan's shoulder by way of apology. Spock sat like stone for about ten seconds, then relaxed his own head down upon Jim's, and smiled. Jim said quietly, "You laid an egg and now you're smiling. Do you have any idea how much you are messing with my head right now, Spock?"

The Vulcan sighed and kissed the blonde angelic creature beside him. Jim was no archangel, realised Spock, he had his weaknesses. But he would do for this lifetime.

**Chapter Fourteen**

John shook his head, grinned yet again and asked, "Remind me why we are here, Dick?"

"There's a Vulcan laid an egg," stated Dick calmly.

John giggled, a trait which had only just come to light in his character and was not helping Jim's grasp on reality. John did not seem the giggly type. But then again, the small sandy haired man was full of surprises, Jim reminded himself.

All of which, Jim also reminded himself didn't change the fact that Dick was correct in his observation, that here indeed was a Vulcan laid an egg. Jim's Vulcan.

"Maybe this is all a cordrazine hallucination on my part," suggested Jim hopefully.

"This 'hallucination' is now into its third week," Dick reminded him gently.

"Sounds like cordrazine," nodded Jim.

"Oh? Sounds like an interesting substance…" Dick brightened up.

"No," said John firmly, and Dick sighed and looked to the heavens.

Dick walked around and around Spock, staring at him closely, "And you say you've definitely seen this egg?"

"Large as life, just before he sat on it and went into this strange trance," advised Jim.

John giggled again, then looked apologetic, but asked, "What? Am I the only one that finds this just a little bit funny? I mean of all people, Spock? Your dead serious Vulcan commander?"

"Whom our dead serious Captain here has been shagging into the rocks all over this planet without a hint of any sort of protection," Dick held up a hand to still Jim's indignant protest, "Am I wrong?"

"Don't be silly, how can you be wrong when you can read minds?" demanded Jim irritably.

"Oh, you'd be surprised," said Dick, "Take John here… I had him wrong for years."

John ducked his head and said nothing.

Dick went on, "Although to be fair, he had himself wrong too, so it was hardly my fault I misread his mind. Anyway, Captain, what exactly were you expecting to be the end result, when you repeatedly had hot unprotected sex with an avian life-form, if not an egg?"

Jim sighed and looked thoroughly embarrassed.

"Dick," warned John.

"What? Bit not good?" asked Dick, looking a little perplexed.

"Mmmm," said John nodding once. Jim had the feeling that they had this snippet of conversation quite a bit.

"Well, it's not rocket science though, is it?" said Dick.

"That's just as well, because our resident rocket scientist is in a trance," Jim pointed out.

"Dick…." intervened John again.

"WILL YOU STOP CALLING ME THAT. My name is Sh….. " Dick spat with frustration and hit his forehead with both hands, "I can't remember, but it is not Dick!"

"Oh, I don't know, 'Dick' seems to fit you quite well," said Jim, "Remind me, why am I asking advice from a man who can't even remember his own name?"

Jim was feeling guilty, and vulnerable, and worried about Spock, and quite put out by the fact that it had suddenly dawned on him that the egg had an occupant. A living, soon-to-be-breathing alien that would, he guessed, be sort of related to Spock and him. It was a sobering thought. It all added up to Jim feeling edgy and a little bit like he was living outside his own skin and a bit snappy at the moment.

Dick sighed and sat on a handy rock. There were always handy rocks on Icarus. He surveyed the two winged Star Fleet officers, and he suggested, "Okay, so I have actually learnt a bit from your first officer in the last few weeks. Let's approach this logically. How long do you think the incubation period for the egg will be?"

"And will there be more eggs?" asked John.

"Do we need to find him a nest, or are we just going to let him sit out here in the weather on the rocks for however many weeks it takes to incubate this thing?" asked Dick.

"How come you never laid me an egg?" demanded John, suddenly going off on his own sad little tangent.

Dick shot him an amused look, "Because I'm not a green blooded alien?"

"So?" demanded John, like it was irrelevant. Perhaps it was.

"We need more information. Where's your resident exobiologist?" Dick asked Jim.

Jim pointed at Spock.

"Expert in Vulcan physiology?" asked Dick a little less hopefully.

Jim pointed at Spock.

"Best biological scientist?" asked Dick.

John could play this game, it was easy. He pointed at Spock at the same time that Jim did, this time, and grinned at them both.

"What are you so delighted about?" Dick demanded of John.

"I actually think it's quite adorable," said John.

Dick looked at him as though he had taken leave of his senses, sighed and shook his head, "Perhaps we should treat this like a medical emergency?"

"In that case our first consideration should be to move him and the egg to somewhere safe," suggested John automatically.

"Yeah, er…" said Jim.

"What?" demanded Dick.

"He actually weighs quite a bit. I doubt we'd be able to lift him. We'll have to bring the shuttlecraft across, and persuade him to move the egg into it."

"Ah, now you're thinking," said Dick approvingly.

Spock suddenly stood up, reached down and cradled the egg in his arms.

"Spock? Spock? Where are you going?" asked Jim.

Spock turned away and his voice floated back to Jim.

"The mesa."

"Why?" called Dick. Spock did not answer, but flapped off in a relaxed manner.

Jim sighed, and they all flapped quickly to catch up with Spock, "What's so special about the mesa?" asked John.

"Perhaps he thinks it's a suitable nesting site?" asked Jim, "We did ah.. .we did… he seemed to like it there… earlier."

Dick shook his head at them and said, "That is where you began to…." and stopped, knowing Jim would fill in the gaps. Dick had realised when he suggested the death roll coupling to Spock that the Vulcan had been deeply intrigued and interested to try it with Jim at the earliest opportunity. It wasn't much of a leap to figure out why they had flown up to the mesa.

"Yes," blushed Jim.

"Oh," said John.

"Well, in that case, he's probably simply going back there for his clothes," Dick pointed out.

"Oh yeah," frowned Jim.

When they arrived at the mesa, Spock flew around it a few times with his precious cargo, then landed in the grassy hollow where Jim and he had…. Jim looked away from Dick's piercing eyes and blushed, and Dick smiled at him knowingly. Spock settled the egg gently down on the ground, completely ignored his clothes and took up the same seated position over the egg as he had previously.

"I think I know where he'll be for the next few weeks," said John.

Jim sighed, "Best get the camp moved up here, then. M'Benga's gonna be pissed."

"No," smiled John, "He'll be too busy laughing."

Dick surprised Jim by going over to Spock and sitting in front of him, facing him, and watching the Vulcan's face for any signs of awareness. Eventually Spock focused on Dick, and asked quietly, "Yes?"

"We don't know what you need," explained Dick quietly, "You need to tell us."

Spock stared at the distance for a long time, then considered Dick again, and held at hand up towards Dick's face, fingers splayed.

Jim frowned, and John warned, "I don't think that's a good idea… Dick put his hand on my face like that once and it felt like my brains were being sucked out of my head." He started to step forward towards the two of them, but Jim put out a restraining hand, "I don't think so… do you?"

Dick leaned in and allowed the splayed fingers to settle gently on his face, then he gave an audible gasp, which had John straining forward protectively against Jim's restraining hand. Then Dick's eyes opened very wide suddenly, then glazed over with the same trance-like expression as Spock's.

The meld lasted about fifteen minutes, by the end of which Jim was getting anxious and almost having to sit on John to stop him from trying to break the meld, "Spock knows what he's doing," growled Jim.

"You don't know what Dick's like," responded John angrily.

Just then they heard the Vulcan's voice say a single word, and Dick was looking down, shaking his head slightly as though to clear it.

Spock looked over at Jim and John, and smiled briefly, reassuringly at Jim before appearing to drift back into his now-characteristic trance.

Dick stood up and walked over to them, looking subdued.

"Dick?" asked John, and Jim did not miss the softening of Dick's eyes as he put a brief reassuring hand on John's arm and corrected him, "My name is not Dick. It's Sherlock."

"Sherlock," John tested out the name, and a smile came to his face.

"You like it?" asked Sherlock, looking confused, "I think I would prefer Dick."

But John was nodding, "Sherlock. Sherlock. Yes, that's it. But wait, how did Spock know who you were when you didn't even know?"

"Apparently I did know, I simply could not access the memories. He helped me repair some of the memory structures in my mind. That's why the meld took so long," said Sherlock.

Jim was staring at them both, "Sherlock? You mean as in Sherlock Holmes and…. John… John Watson….Doctor John Watson?"

"Hey!" exclaimed John, "I think that's right!"

"You know of us? After three centuries?" asked Sherlock, looking a little bit chuffed.

"We're that famous?" asked John.

"Er… sort of," said Jim, "Old Earth sort of went through a second Dark Ages in the early to mid two thousands. Lots of historical records were burnt or lost around that century. From what records we have, we thought you were fictional characters."

"Nope, sorry, large as life," smiled John, then repeated, "Sherlock. Sherlock… of course…."

Sherlock shot John a small appreciative smile, "I suppose it does not sound that bad. I could get used to it."

"Sorry about the Dick thing," said John.

"I didn't mind the Dick thing," deadpanned Sherlock, with a wealth of warmth and humour in his voice, and suddenly Jim felt that he had much more of a handle on the two of them than he had before. Why should knowing someone's real name make such a difference to how you saw them? It shouldn't, thought Jim, but it did. Or maybe it was the way John had repeated the name, like it was the name of some kind of saint.

"Your Vulcan friend has an amazing mind," said Sherlock. The meld seemed to have had a calming effect on him, which Jim found odd. Melds with Spock were anything but calming in his experience.

"Did you get any information about the egg thing?" asked Jim hopefully.

"Ah, yes. He does not require much food or water through the duration of the incubation, which should be about six weeks,"

"Six weeks? So, what, he just sits there? Won't he starve or die of thirst? What if he needs to relieve himself or stretch his legs?" worried Jim.

"From what I understood in the meld, Spock has entered a quasi-hibernation state not uncommon in avian species on your planet Earth, Jim. His metabolism has slowed down remarkably and he is burning very little in the way of energy. Our sole responsibilities would seem to be to protect him and the eggs whilst he is less able to defend himself in this state. Also once every two or three days he will rouse himself from this state and requires that another incubates the eggs so that he may stretch his legs, as it were."

"Why is everyone looking at me?" asked Jim, then realisation dawned, "What? No, you don't… I'm not going to sit on a nest incubating eggs, for the galaxy's sake."

"For Spock's sake, then?" asked John.

"Well…."

"Oh, well… yes of course," sighed Jim, "Wait up… eggs? Plural?"

"Probably," advised Sherlock.

"Sherlock," purred John to himself.

"John, really, you can't stop saying my name now, I don't think I'll forget it again."

"Right. We're all good, then, sorted?" John asked them in general.

Sherlock and Jim watched him as he walked away, and Jim said, "Don't take this the wrong way, but he is far and away the oddest human being I have ever met."

Sherlock smiled, "I had the same thought when I first met him. Isn't he delightful? But apparently most people think that I'm the odd one."

"Oh, no," said Jim, "You're just too damned clever for your own good. Like Spock."

**Chapter Fifteen**

"Sherlock," whispered John, "Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock."

"John, please stop that." Sherlock was actually trying to get some sleep for once, in the tent, which was pulled into the gap between two rocks on the rim of Spock's chosen nest on the mesa.

"Never."

"I do believe the captain's stubborn nature is rubbing off on you, John."

"I'm the captain, remember? Captain John Hamish Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. God it's bloody nice to know something about yourself after seven months living in a vacuum. Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock."

"How do you know all that?"

"They still have Google. Who'd have thought, eh, Sherlock, us and Google, we all three stood the test of time. Three centuries along, still going strong."

"You have the oddest way of looking at things, John."

"Ah, but that's what you love about me, isn't it, Sherlock?" John grinned, then stopped himself, "Sorry, shouldn't have said that."

"Why not?"

"Bit forward."

"But I do love you. My mind palace is quite clear on that."

"It is?"

"Must you squeak like a guinea pig about it?"

"Jim says I'm like a tribble on crack when I giggle," laughed John, then turned suddenly serious, "So, we're in love."

"No, my mind palace says that I love you. It does not specify whether the sentiment is returned."

"So, we're in love."

"You don't have to reciprocate, John."

"Oh, oh, wait, you're in idiot mode. I missed it. Sorry, let me say it really, really slowly….. soooooo, we're in looooooove."

"You don't love me. You're just over excited about discovering that your sexuality is ambiguous."

"No."

"Don't use that tone of 'no' with me, John."

"I love you."

…

"What the hell is a tribble anyway?"

**Chapter Sixteen**

"Captain, a word," M'Benga's voice reached Jim through a chilly haze.

Jim woke up, and found himself curled up next to the immobile statue that was currently Spock. He stared at Spock. In the chilly dawn, he could just make out that someone had thrown a large coat over Spock's shoulders, in between the wings, and tucked it back around his body. Jim pushed himself up and was surprised to find a smaller, heavier jumper had been put over him while he slept.

He looked up at M'Benga, and was instantly awake.

"Problem?"

"Not immediate, but it does require attention. And I thought perhaps a hot shower might be in order for you. And coffee." M'Benga stared at the light frost covering Jim's wings. It gave an other-worldly sparkle to the iridescence that played across the surface of the snow white feathers. Since landing on the planet, Jim had been averaging about five or six hours of flying a day, and even M'Benga had to admit that if the Captain was handsome when in normal health, now that he was this fit he was positively stunning. His body was tanned and tight, muscles sleek and golden, and his wings now had an iridescent sheen that refracted and reflected off every feather, the white colouring allowing all the colours of the rainbow to play across the surface of his wings. His eyes sparkled with good health, and M'Benga wondered what effect he was going to have on the crew of the Enterprise when he returned. They had left behind a Captain, they would be getting back an angel. How ironic, thought M'Benga, and how lovely, that Jim was so unaware of his physical appeal, because he had eyes only for Spock.

"Oh, thanks," smiled Jim, taking the steaming cup. "Go on."

"It's about Sherlock and John."

"What about them?" Jim sipped on the hot coffee gratefully.

"I've run some genetic scans on them."

"Don't tell me, Sherlock's not human."

"Well… that's not quite true. At the moment, he is."

Jim eyed M'Benga over his coffee cup, looking more puzzled than surprised.

M'Benga smiled and went on, "But there are certain markers present also, that normally indicate the ability to shape-shift."

"Uh-oh. Into what?"

"That's the problem, Captain. We have no idea. The markers normally indicate the ability to shape-shift, but unless he changes form, his DNA won't change and we wouldn't get anything but a human reading."

"Could he be dangerous?"

"Ah… no. Not to anyone else to himself."

"Come on Geoff, how can you possibly know that without knowing what he can change into?"

"Ah, that's the thing, Captain, I don't think he actually can change."

"You just said he has shape shifter markers on his genes. Explain."

"I think he's a hybrid. And there aren't enough markers present to enable him to actually have the full shape-shifting ability. While his body may be able to produce some internal genetic changes, I don't think he can actually change his full physiology. And I don't think he can control it. There just aren't enough markers."

"Wouldn't that be…. uncomfortable?" asked Jim, "For him?"

M'Benga looked towards the tent that Sherlock and John were still sleeping in, "Torture. It would explain his occasionally erratic behaviour."

Jim sipped his coffee and Geoff M'Benga over the rim, "There's more, isn't there?"

"Of course," smiled M'Benga, and shifted a little, "There is apparent increasing cell damage to both of them as a result of their temporal displacement. I believe that you encountered something similar on a planet where the inhabitants fled into their own past to avoid the death of their own sun?"

"Yes, the Atavachron," remembered Jim, "We weren't prepared, so we had to return to our own time, or die slowly."

"Yes. Well, it appears that Sherlock and John are suffering the same fate, only to a lesser extent, because they have only been moved through time a few hundred years, not thousands. We need to send them back, Jim. They can't stay."

"Of course we can stay," a deep voice said quietly, "And we will stay."

M'Benga and Jim both jumped, and Sherlock stepped out from behind the rocks.

"You heard Geoff, Sherlock, you can't stay. You'll die."

"No. I we go back, John will be in mortal danger. And I will have to hunt down his would-be assassins. It is simply not acceptable for me to be away from him whilst he is in such danger."

"How do you know that?" asked Jim, "I thought you had forgotten most of your life back then."

"I told you that Spock helped me restore my memory. That much I do remember."

"Sherlock," explained Jim gently, "You'll both die. We don't know how long it will take, but your cells will slowly become damaged by the temporal displacement effect. John will die here - I mean now - just as surely as he would back then by an assassin's bullet. It will just take longer."

"Surely there must be a way of getting back to this Atavachron, imitating or adjusting the technology and applying it to John and myself to adapt us to this time?" pondered Sherlock.

"Their sun went nova. The Atavachron was destroyed, along with all their time-travel technology," said Jim.

"Well, obviously they weren't the only race capable of time-travel. Look at the aliens who brought John and me here."

"But they didn't adjust your metabolism. They probably weren't as advanced in that field. Besides, we've been looking for them for three weeks and we still can't find them," responded Jim.

"We don't need them to have all the technology," Sherlock pointed out, "We just need to go back in time to the planet of the Atavachron, before their sun went nova, and we can find out from them how they adjusted their metabolisms."

"You're going to need a star ship," Jim pointed out, "And the Enterprise is a military vessel, I can't just take her where and when I please."

Sherlock stared at him, his face a mask. Jim was disturbingly reminded of Spock in one of his more Vulcan moods.

M'Benga looked at them both and shook his head, stood up and walked back towards the main tent. Sherlock stood looking intently at Jim for a moment, then looked at Spock, "Six weeks, you say?"

Jim did not answer, and Sherlock turned and walked back towards his and John's tent.

A soft voice startled Jim, "Watch him."

"Spock! How are you?"

"I am well, Jim. But as I said, watch him."

"Oh, come on, Spock, what's he going to do? Hijack the Enterprise and use it to ferry John and himself back in time to that Atavachron? One man, hijack a starship single-handed? What are the chances of that happening? Who would do that?"

"I did," Spock pointed out.

Jim stared at him, and Spock went on, "And for almost the exact same reason: for an old friend."

"Damn."

"As I said, Jim, watch him."

"Spock, do you really think he's capable of something like that?"

"Absolutely, Jim. If you mean emotionally and ethically capable, yes. And if you mean 'does he have the intelligence to do so', definitely. Imagine my intellect, with emotion being the driving force behind his actions, and reason supporting that emotion."

"I don't know, Spock, Sherlock doesn't seem that much of a slave to his emotions to me."

"That is because you speak of many emotions, Jim. Sherlock does not have emotions: he just has one," suggested Spock, nodding towards John Watson sleepily emerging from his and Sherlock's tent and giving them a friendly wave.

"Oh….. damn," breathed Jim, watching the short, cheerful doctor meander hopefully towards the aroma of tea and toast in the main tent, followed shortly afterwards by the tall, lanky figure of Sherlock.

"Now do you see, Jim?"

"I'll watch him. Thanks, Spock. By the way, do you need a break?"

"I thought you'd never ask," sighed Spock, and suddenly reached out and pulled Jim across onto the egg, sliding off it himself at the same time, and standing up and stretching.

"Ow!" exclaimed Jim, "It's hot."

"Vulcan body temperature is higher than human," Spock reminded him, with a very slight eye-roll.

"Am I going to be hot enough for it?" worried Jim.

"Jim, you'll be fine, I'll be back once I have showered and breakfasted," Spock assured him.

"Okay, but be quick, I feel a bit silly doing this," grumbled Jim.

Spock closed his eyes and then opened them and fixed Jim with his best Vulcan thousand yard stare, "And you think I do not?" He started to pick up his clothes and put them on, ignoring the fact that they were now damp with melting frost.

"Point taken, Spock. Go get breakfast," Jim conceded.

But Spock just stood there, sleek and tall and fit, and Jim gazed at him and wondered what was passing through that magnificent mind. His wonderings ceased suddenly when Spock leaned down and breathed into his ear, "You do realise that this means six weeks of abstinence?"

Jim groaned, "Why me?"

Spock leaned a fraction closer, breathed soft kisses from Jim's ear down to his collar bone and whispered seductively, "And at the end of that six weeks, I am going to take you to pieces and put you back together again, and fuck you against my cabin wall until you are senseless and you cannot breathe anymore."

He kissed Jim lightly across the ear again, and Jim whispered, "What did you do that for? Now I'm hot as hell and rock hard and can't do anything about it."

"The temperature increase in your body due to your sexual arousal will keep the egg warm while I am away," whispered Spock, standing up and strolling away.

"I hate you," Jim called after him.

"I love you too, Jim," drifted back over Jim's shoulder, and Jim swore in all the languages he knew how to swear in. He suddenly remembered the egg beneath him and said aloud, "Sorry about the swearing, kiddo."

Jim settled down on the warm egg and suddenly saw the absurdity of his situation…. He was not only sitting on his alien lover's egg, he was apologizing to the occupant for swearing. He prayed the others would be occupied by a long breakfast so they didn't wander over and see him like this.

But of course as soon as Spock turned up at the main tent and they realised that Jim would be sitting on the egg, there was a mass exodus towards the nest to have a look.

All except Spock who was watching Sherlock, who was sitting ignoring his food, fingers steepled under his chin, deep in thought, and John, who sat opposite Sherlock watching him intently.

Spock frowned.

**Chapter Seventeen**

It was six days later.

"Spock," a soft voice called.

Spock slowly came out of his trance. It was time for his break anyway.

"Yes, Jim?"

"We need you to help with the investigation of the mutation beam. It hasn't recurred for four weeks now, and we have no way of knowing why its pattern of recurrence is so erratic. Can you trust me with the egg?"

"Eggs."

"What?" Jim sounded slightly panicky.

"Eggs. There are three of them."

"Oh…." said Jim in a small voice.

"You cannot care for them for more than an hour or so at a time, because your body temperature is simply too low," observed Spock.

A deep voice from behind Spock suggested, "Aren't your tents temperature controlled? You could set the controls for the higher temperature required and the tent would act as an incubator."

Spock frowned and looked up to see Sherlock, "An excellent idea, Sherlock," and promptly stared back at the horizon.

"What does that mean?" wondered Jim, "Is he agreeing? Why is he just sitting there?"

"He's been doing that for a week, Captain, why were you expecting him to change?" asked Geoff M'Benga.

"Well, if he's anything like Sherlock, that means 'wake me up when the tent's up'," observed John Watson.

"Why should Spock be anything like me?" Sherlock demanded of John.

"Actually…" muttered M'Benga, but was ignored.

"Get the tent up around him, will you?" asked Jim, impatiently, "And seriously, why didn't we think of this earlier?"

Sherlock answered casually, "Them? Because they're idiots. You? Because you're panicking about impending fatherhood."

"John….." warned Jim, glaring at Sherlock.

"Sherlock, how about a nice cup of tea?" suggested John, towing him away from Jim quickly.

"Did I say something wrong?" asked Sherlock.

"No, no. Couple of biscuits, too?" suggested John.

Sherlock followed John, and they sat and ate biscuits and drank tea while M'Benga's team erected the tent around Spock.

After about fifteen minutes, Spock and Jim emerged from the tent, and Jim set one of the security guards outside the tent flap, ordering, "Nobody goes in or out except Spock or me, and of course, the good doctors."

"And Sherlock," suggested Spock.

"And Sherlock," added Jim, but asked Spock, "Why Sherlock?"

Spock just shrugged.

The guard nodded and the two came over. John poured coffee for them and M'Benga came to join them.

"What seems to be the problem, Jim? Why did you need me away from the nest?" asked Spock.

"Everything!" exclaimed Jim in frustration, "We can't detect the generator, the beam doesn't seem to have operated since we arrived, this planet seems to be a barren wasteland despite the obvious-" here he waved a hand at the collective wingspans above them all "-effectiveness of the beam, which by the way doesn't seem to exist! None of this makes any sense, and all we're doing is hatching eggs!"

Spock's eyes glinted, and Jim muttered, "Sorry. Important eggs."

"So," said John, "When this ship of yours arrives back in two weeks…."

Jim threw his hands in the air, "Nothing. We've got nothing! Nada, nil."

"We still have our wings," Spock pointed out.

"And we're not supposed to have. The idea of coming here was to get rid of them," sighed Jim.

"What?" asked Sherlock, "Why would you want to do that?"

"So we fit in the ship. If anyone remembers, I'm actually supposed to be captaining the ship!" groaned Jim.

"…why?" asked John, looking confused.

"Why what?" asked Jim.

"Why would you want to get rid of your wings to fit in a ruddy ship?" asked John incredulously.

"It's not just any ruddy ship, it's the Enterprise!" growled Jim.

"Fascinating. Sentiment, about a vessel," observed Sherlock.

"Wait just a damned minute," said John angrily, "Why in the name of heaven are you trying to reverse this effect? Get rid of these?" John indicated the mass of glossy feathers above them all.

"They serve no logical purpose on a star ship," Spock pointed out calmly, "And they do make it difficult to function on board the ship."

"Well, I think you need to have a good look at your ship," declared John, "Because it sounds a bit like a Procrustean bed to me."

"A what?" asked M'Benga.

"Procrustes. Ancient mythological giant who welcomed visitors and gave them a bed for the night, but either stretched them out or chopped off their legs to fit in his guest bed," explained John.

Sherlock frowned and shook his head at John, "All the things that you have forgotten, and that gruesome little tale you remember?"

"I've had a thing for gruesome fairy tales," explained John, "Since I was a kid."

"Hmm, so that's how you knew Hansel and Gretel," said Sherlock.

A cough from Jim drew their attention back to him. He looked as though he were about to explode, "The Enterprise is not a Procrustean bed," and there was a low, dangerous growl in his voice.

"Nothing's anything until you make it that," John fired back at him.

Spock looked thoughtfully at John, "Nothing's neither good nor bad, but thinking makes it so," quoth Spock.

Sherlock frowned and asked scathingly, "And tell me, Captain, once you have clipped all our wings, what are you doing to do with whatever comes out of those eggs? How are you going to explain to your little fledgling children, that you are going to take them one step back along the evolutionary scale, because they don't fit properly in your current mode of transport?"

Jim's eyebrows nearly rose to his hairline at Sherlock's tone, and he looked to Spock for support.

And found none.

**Chapter Eighteen**

Jim snuggled into the warm, black, soft feathers and moaned in his sleep. Spock felt the vibration against him, opened his eyes slightly and began to lift a hand back and stroke it repeatedly through the iridescent white down that was tickling his ears slightly, and he felt the human settle back to sleep. The Vulcan cast a lazy eye over the three identical eggs that now sat against him, in the middle of their temperature controlled tent, and listened to the whistling wind outside. As they slept, the tent had automatically adopted its stronger domed shape in response to the high wind, and its ground spears had deployed, so that it was now fastened into the rock below them with a dozen titanium alloy anchors, but it still trembled slightly against the strong wind. Spock took a deep breath in of the scent of the feathered shoulder that his face rested against, then listened as he heard voices outside the tent.

"We can't just…." he heard Sherlock's deep baritone.

"Well, we can't stay out here, you'll freeze."

"Why are you always blaming me for things?"

"I'm not, I was expressing concern for you, Sherlock. You always feel the cold more than me."

"We'll wake them up."

"Shut up, we'll sneak in and explain in the morning."

"Useless technology."

"Well, maybe if you hadn't pulled the tent control panel apart, the bloody thing would still be working."

There was a deep huff, and Spock quickly closed his eyes as the tent opened with a swish. Spock felt a cold draft, then heard another swish and felt the cold draft stop. Warmth flooded the tent as the environmental controls compensated for the brief influx of cold air.

"Awwww," came John Watson's voice.

Sherlock, "Oh."

"Oh? Is that all you have to say? They're beyond adorable. Spock reminds me a bit of you."

Sherlock sighed, "Come over here."

"Okay."

"Shhh. Lie down and go to sleep, John."

"Mmmmm. I love these downy feathers under here. They're snuggly."

"Shut up and snuggle, then," Sherlock sounded snippish, but after a minute or two Spock heard the breathing from both of them settle into a deep rhythm, and realised that they must have fallen asleep, so he opened his eyes again.

He heard a rustle and saw Sherlock tug John up against himself in his sleep, and Spock tightened his arms around Jim and pulled the human close to him.

Hours later, as the grey light of dawn, a soft sound awoke Jim Kirk. Jim lifted his head slightly and rested it on Spock's chest sleepily, then with a start realised what had woken him. Across the tent he could see Sherlock and John. The black feathers of Sherlock's wings covered them, but Jim could still see that Sherlock's body was moving languorously atop John's, and the smaller man's face was thrust back in ecstasy. Jim ducked back down, feeling his face flush with embarrassment, and controlled his breathing and closed his eyes. He couldn't close his ears, though, and the soft moans from across the tent built to crescendo of choked off whimpers from John, along with a succession of deep gasps from Sherlock.

Jim shivered involuntarily, trying not to hear the whispered endearments that followed from Sherlock… endearments that flowed easily from human lips, even Sherlock's. Jim had to suppress a sigh as he overheard the two exchange soft words, words that he knew he would never hear from Spock. He fisted his hands into the soft, black feathers of his alien lover and ignored the pain, choosing instead to feel the familiar warmth, and look at the beautiful features beside him that were calm in repose.

Across the tent, Sherlock stroked John back into a deep sleep, then stole a look across at the Vulcan and the captain. Sherlock smiled and his eyes gleamed wolf-like in the soft grey light of dawn. He had begun to execute his plan. He felt a bit bad about using John in this manner, but what his partner did not know would not hurt him, and Sherlock knew that the only weakness in the Vulcan's armour, the only chink in Spock's mind-palace, was sleeping in Spock's arms across the tent. Sherlock knew he would have to distract Spock to get away with his plan to save John, and the Vulcan was not an easy being to distract. Unless, of course, you had melded with a Vulcan and discovered that beneath their cool exteriors Vulcans are extremely possessive of their partners and that they find jealousy a very distracting thing, and one of the most difficult emotions to suppress.

The next day Jim was working on collecting some geological samples for M'Benga's team. They only had two more weeks to find out about the civilisation that left the beam, so it was all hands on deck, including the captain. He had moved away across the mesa about a half a kilometre from the main camp, and was using a geological phaser tool to extract and bag small rock samples and put them in a small bag at his waist.

Jim looked at the rocks he had collected with mild interest, and leaned back against a flat rock surface which towered well over his head, and wingtips for that matter. He looked up, then with a start saw a black shape descending quickly from the sky above him.

"Hello," said Sherlock, landing in front of Jim with a powerful whoosh, in a cloud of dust.

"Oh, hi Sherlock, I thought you were Spock, coming to let me know lunch was up," said Jim.

"I thought I'd come instead," murmured Sherlock quietly, and took a couple of steps towards Jim.

"Sherlock…." Jim was suddenly nervous. Sherlock came up and placed a hand on either side of Jim's head, on the rock surface, trapping the captain against the rock.

"Wha-" began Jim, but Sherlock said quietly, "It turned you on, didn't it? Watching John and me this morning?"

Jim's eyes were rounded. He was too shocked to say anything, and Sherlock moved closer, his eyes silver gray in the bright morning light, his lips hovering dangerously close to Jim's. A few more millimetres and Jim would know the taste of those lips. He shook himself angrily and began to duck away, but jumped as another black shape settled on the rocks behind Sherlock.

Sherlock tensed up but he smiled and leaned in and to Jim's surprise, pressed his lips against Jim's.

Jim was frozen with shock. Had Sherlock taken leave of his senses?

Sherlock kissed him for a second, then suddenly shot straight upwards about ten metres, looked down at them and began to flap. He said nothing, turned and flew away.

Spock stared coldly at Jim.

"Spock…." said Jim.

The Vulcan stepped up to him and stared at him, then spun on his heel and began to walk away.

Jim said desperately, "I didn't invite that!"

"You didn't stop him, either," came back the cold voice of the Vulcan.

Jim flapped to fly around and land in front of Spock putting both hands out, "I wasn't expecting it, I was shocked, I froze."

"And why did he think it would be welcome in the first place?"

"He didn't! I gave him no reason to think-"

But Spock was backing away, his eyes like jasper in the bright light, his pupils pinpricks, saying as he did, "Human. You are so human, Jim. I have read Vulcan emotions into your actions. It was my error. I am sorry." And the Vulcan backed away a few paces then shot into the air and flew away.

Jim swore vehemently, but decided not to follow, and headed back to the nest instead. He knew Spock would not stay away from the nest for long. But as he flew slowly back to the camp, his bag of rocks weighing him down, he remembered the feeling of strong lips pressed briefly against his own, and grey eyes gazing piercingly into his. Had he given Sherlock any reason to think that he was interested? No. He shook his head angrily, wondering what Sherlock's agenda was. Jim had thought, until a minute earlier, that the tall man was completely besotted with John. He had been sure of it. But who knew, about Sherlock Holmes?

When he got back to camp, he was surprised to see John and Sherlock inspecting the nest tent, and as he landed he saw Sherlock put his hands up to his face in frustration and say, "No, no, no! This was not what was supposed to happen!"

Jim strode past them, his anger at Sherlock overridden by a sudden twist of anxiety, and he hardly heard as John asked him, "Did something happen? Spock seemed a little out of sorts."

"Spock was here?" asked Jim.

John said, "Yes, just a moment ago, he took a collection bag in with him and took off…."

Jim pulled the tent flap aside and stared in horror.

The nest was empty. The eggs were gone.

**Chapter Nineteen**

Sherlock was pacing, fisting his eyes in frustration, "This was not how he was supposed to react. I can't have him flapping about the planet, I need him!"

John walked away from the tent to follow Sherlock, and said, "Sorry, what?"

"I don't understand," said Sherlock, "What did I do wrong?"

"What do you mean, you need him?" asked John.

Jim Kirk's voice behind them startled John, and he said, "Sherlock!"

"What?" asked Sherlock, obviously annoyed.

Jim walked up to Sherlock and glared at him.

"I need him, don't you see? I can't do without him!" hissed Sherlock, then glanced at John, who was looking horrified.

"What the hell," demanded Jim, "Was that kiss about?"

"Kiss?" asked John, but no-one heard him.

"Oh, it's nothing, you wouldn't understand," shrugged Sherlock, his eyes narrowed as he thought furiously, "The important thing is, I have to get Spock back."

"Get him back? Kiss?" asked John, his voice shaking slightly.

"What were you trying to do? Spock certainly wasn't too happy about it!" yelled Jim.

"You kissed Spock?" said John, but the other two did not hear him.

"What are you doing back here? Shouldn't you be off looking for Spock, patching things up?" said Sherlock mockingly to Jim.

"I should phaser your ass," growled Jim, "And I don't think Spock wants to patch things up with me right now. In fact, I think you owe me an explanation."

"Not at all," smirked Sherlock, "In fact, I quite enjoyed that. Perhaps I should do it again?"

"Does anyone remember I'm here?" asked John softly, "Do I even exist?"

Jim leaned close to Sherlock, "I'd just like to see you damned try it, buster. What game are you playing?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Captain, if I'm attracted to a man, why shouldn't I kiss him?" grinned Sherlock.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it's because you belong to John?" demanded Jim.

"John?" asked Sherlock, looking around.

John was nowhere to be seen. Sherlock walked over to the edge of the mesa and looked all around, then turned accusingly at Jim, "Now look what you've done!"

**Chapter Twenty**

John was plummeting, almost at the rocky ground, when the black wings swept down, and he was caught and pulled out of his hurtling descent into a hard pull-up and roll. He opened his eyes, "Sherlock?" but instead saw pointed ears and a grim face.

"Spock! Let me go!" John spat.

"Hardly a logical request."

"Piss off. I don't want anything to do with you!"

"Yes, and neither does Jim. But I need help incubating these eggs, without access to the tent, and you are here."

"Why don't you ask Sherlock for help? I'm sure he'd oblige."

"There is only one thing I want to do to Sherlock, and that is not permitted."

"Damned right I wouldn't permit it!" and John started to struggle against the Vulcan, but John's wings had been closed when Spock grabbed him, and the Vulcan held them closed against him easily with his alien strength, carrying John off towards the top of another high mesa not too far from the original nesting place.

"He has betrayed you," hissed Spock, "Why would you defend him?"

"Fuck off!" said John, and Spock flew in silence. He banked around and landed on the mesa, and John laughed bitterly.

"What?" asked Spock.

"What are you going to do, let me go?" asked John, "I'll just fly away and do the same thing."

Spock frowned, "Self-immolation is illogical," but he did not release his hold around John's wings.

"Or smash your eggs," suggested John bitterly.

Spock's hold around John tightened.

"Ow."

"You will not touch the eggs. I have a phaser," said Spock.

John's laugh pealed out across the mesa, "So what? Gee, so phaser me! What do I care? Original intent achieved! I'd be as dead as if you let me fall."

Spock looked thoughtful, and they stood there, at an impasse, for what seemed to John a long time. John became aware of the alien heat of the other man pressed against him and said, "What are you going to do, Spock? Hold me in your arms forever?"

"Yes, Spock what are you going to do?" came a deep, bitter voice from above them.

"Sherlock!" exclaimed John, then remembered he was angry at Sherlock and fell silent.

Spock said nothing, and Sherlock flapped down to land behind John. John heard the dark voice from behind him say bitterly, "It didn't take you long to fall into the arms of another."

John sighed, "Oh, please, if there's going to be a lover's quarrel, could it not be while I'm standing here like this?"

"I am not letting you go," said Spock stubbornly, thinking of his eggs.

"John?" came Sherlock's voice.

"It hurts, doesn't it, Sherlock, seeing your lover in another man's arms?" snapped John bitterly, the image of Sherlock and Spock kissing burning through his mind.

A sudden flap of wings and Sherlock was gone. John closed his eyes, and Spock frowned, puzzled. then suddenly the alien arms were gone from around John and John spread his wings to take off, but a strange buzz enveloped him and he felt himself passing out. Spock holstered his phaser.

"My apologies, Captain Watson, but I cannot allow you to hurt yourself or my eggs," he heard Spock say as he slumped into the Vulcan's arms.

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Sherlock flew blindly away, back towards the other mesa. He could not believe the breathtaking speed with which John had thrown himself into Spock's arms. He should have seen it coming: Spock's jealousy, combined with John's sense of betrayal…. that it would create such an incendiary mix of emotions and confusion in both of them, that they would virtually fall into each other's arms.

He needed advice fast, from someone who understood emotions. He needed John. He stopped flying, and flapped in the air. He looked back towards the other mesa. What if John and Spock were even now falling further into each other's arms, shouldn't he go back and stop them? But how could he? Sherlock flapped, looking towards each mesa in turn. Then he saw Spock shoot away from the second mesa and head back towards the original nest site. Sherlock hesitated, then shot off after him, keeping high and back a few hundred metres. The Vulcan looked angry, and Sherlock was suddenly concerned for Jim's safety. He knew John was safe on the other mesa, and was probably guarding the eggs.

He followed at a steady pace. Spock flew down to land on the side of the mesa, about two metres below the top, and then climbed easily up and over the back of the camp. Sherlock flew around the front and landed near Jim Kirk, who rounded on him angrily, "Where the hell is Spock?"

Sherlock said, "Shut up, you're in danger," and circled Kirk, whose phaser was out of his belt and in his hand as they looked around.

"Who, or what?" asked Jim.

"Spock," answered Sherlock, and he saw Jim lower the phaser and adjust the setting.

"If you stun him while he's in the air you might as well leave it on the kill setting," Sherlock pointed out quietly.

Jim nodded, but then asked, "Tell me, how did you fuck it up this time?"

"I didn't. I just caught Spock and John in each other's arms," clipped out Sherlock, and had to look away from the look in Jim Kirk's eyes.

Kirk sat down on a handy rock, "Spock and John?" he repeated faintly, looking sick.

"Yes. He's not coming," said Sherlock, "He would have been here by now if he were."

"Why would Spock be a danger to me?" asked Jim, "What did you say to him?"

"What do you think I said?" snapped Sherlock, "I found them… holding each other, you know…."

"And?"

"I asked Spock what he was going to do." replied Sherlock, sounding edgy.

"What did he say?"

"He didn't, he just kept holding John."

"While you were there?" asked Jim, looking confused.

"Yes, while I was there. It was…. lovely. Touching," snarled Sherlock.

"But…. that sounds like he was protecting John."

"Yes, like maybe they'd been doing this for a while, without our knowing it?" asked Sherlock, "Maybe me kissing you was just the excuse they needed to… you know… go public?"

"But Sherlock, Spock's been sitting, and John… John wouldn't have been so upset…. Something's not right, here."

"Yes, but what?"

"Maybe, if you started by explaining to me why the hell you kissed me in the first place?" asked Jim.

Sherlock pursed his lips and looked at Jim, "Sorry, can't."

Jim shook his head, and said, "Can you explain it to them? Spock or John?"

Sherlock's eyes lit up, "Of course! John!" and he flapped frantically and flew back towards the edge of the mesa. Jim ran over to the edge to see which way he had gone, but the black wings were nowhere to be seen by the time he reached the edge.

"Damn!" cursed Jim, and walked back to the encampment, his mind a turmoil.

Sherlock flapped cautiously to the other mesa. Spock was nowhere to be seen. The eggs were disguised under a thin green branch, in the warm sun. So, Spock had gone off somewhere, probably in search of food for John. And John….

John was sleeping in a grassy hollow, bound hand, foot and wing with what looked like some sort of thin, bright white rope. So that's what Spock had been doing at the other camp; stealing the rope.

Sherlock settled on a rock next to John, crouching down to examine the other. He spoke up, and John's eyes came open with a start and he struggled against his bonds.

"Kinky," said Sherlock, "So that's why you like him."

"What the-Sherlock, let me go!"

"I didn't tie you up. Why should I let you go?" asked Sherlock archly, jumping down off the rock and striding casually towards John.

"You didn't? Who did?"

"Your new boyfriend," replied Sherlock coldly.

"My what?" John stared at him.

"Spock," explained Sherlock.

"No. No, God no… you idiot. If you two think you're going to use me as part of your kinky sex games, hear me now: I will find a way out of these ropes and I will murder you both and smash those blasted eggs."

"Our kinky sex games? Why would I indulge in sex games with Spock?" asked Sherlock incredulously.

"How the bloody hell would I know? You're the one who kissed him, not me," snarled John.

"I didn't kiss Spock," said Sherlock, puzzled, "Didn't you?"

"No?" said John, twisting in his bonds to look up at Sherlock, who was standing at his feet looking puzzled.

"Then why were you two, you know…. hugging? Before," said Sherlock.

"He was stopping me from…..ah, I'd rather not say," John looked very uncomfortable.

Sherlock knelt down across John's hips and placed his hands either side of John's face, peering at him intently, "What are you not telling me?"

"When you saw us, he was holding me, so I didn't throw myself off the mesa," whispered John, his face flushed with shame.

"You have wings, why would it matter if you…. oh."

"Oh, are you reading me now?" said John, feeling the familiar brush of the other man's mind into his.

"Yes. Wings only work if you flap them….. oh, John," whispered Sherlock, "I nearly killed you."

"No, it really, it wasn't your fault. Well, actually, it bloody-well was, now that I think about it."

But then Sherlock was kissing his face, holding his hands on either side of John's head, kissing him again and again, whispering, "Oh God, oh God, John…."

The detective's mouth fastened gently onto John's and he kissed John for a long time, his mouth eager and gentle. John tried to move, but remembered the ropes and sighed in frustration, "Untie me."

Sherlock did not answer for a long time, but then a gleam came into his eyes, "No."

"What? Oh, God, no, Sherlock, what if Spock comes back? Please-" but his protests were smothered in more kisses, and John arched helplessly as Sherlock rubbed at John's sudden hardness through his pants, then slipped his hand under John's belt line and pants and took his already aching cock in the large, warm hands.

"Jeez…." cried John, "This is…."

"Such a turn-on," whispered Sherlock, slipping his other hand down and unfastening John's pants.

"What are you-?" murmured John.

"Deduce it, John, deduce it," came a delighted whisper, then Sherlock's mouth descended on John's cock and the bound man cried out and fought futilely against the ropes tied around him, as the pleasure became almost unbearable.

Afterwards John lay in a haze of bliss as Sherlock carefully refastened his pants and trailed kisses across his neck.

John's mind, however, was ticking over, "So, Sherlock, I just have one question."

"Yes?" sighed Sherlock.

"If you didn't kiss Spock, what was Jim Kirk talking about earlier? What kiss?"

"Oh, I didn't kiss Spock," said Sherlock smugly, "I kissed Jim."

"You did WHAT?" cried John.

"Listen, I have to go find Spock, try to sort things out a bit with him. You stay here, alright? Not that you're going anywhere," he tweaked the ropes still binding John, and stood up.

"SHERLOCK!" John's enraged roar followed Sherlock across the mesa, and Sherlock smiled as he flapped lazily away.

**Chapter Twenty-two**

Spock rifled through the food stores as quietly as he could, but froze when he heard a low voice behind him.

"I figured you'd have to come back here," Jim said.

Spock turned around and lifted his phaser.

Jim stared at him, "You wouldn't."

"It is the logical course of action, Jim. It would not harm you, and by the time you recovered, I would have the food and be gone."

Jim lifted his own phaser, and Spock shook his head, "Illogical. To stun me would simply to extend the impasse until I recovered."

"I could have you locked up."

"And keep me away from our eggs, possibly rendering them non-viable? I don't think so."

"Fine," sighed Jim, "So shoot me and get it over with, will you. But put that thing on the kill setting," he added bitterly.

Spock stared at him, "You do not mean that."

Jim sat heavily on a food storage box behind him, and stared at Spock.

"What?" asked Spock.

Jim said, "You see Sherlock kiss me, assume the worst without giving me a chance to explain, then Sherlock comes back and tells me he caught you and John hugging each other like there was no tomorrow. I don't fit on my ship anymore. I've lost you. I'm sick of this stinking dustbowl of a planet….. need I go on?"

Jim rubbed his eyes and put his head in his hands.

Spock asked quietly, "Why did Sherlock kiss you?"

"I have no idea."

Spock was silent for a while, then said, "I was not hugging John, I was holding his wings closed because he was trying to kill himself. I have no idea why. Is there something in the air on this planet that drives humans to such things?"

"Yes," said Jim wryly.

"Really? What?"

"Sherlock Holmes," said Jim.

Spock's face quirked up in a slight smile, and he waved his phaser at Jim, "Is there room on that food box for two?"

Jim's mouth twisted upwards at one side, and Spock sat down beside him.

"So," said Jim. He could not resist leaning slightly into the warmth beside him.

"You say you have no idea why he kissed you?" asked Spock.

"None whatsoever," said Jim.

"Perhaps it was simply a response to…." Spock turned to eye Jim.

"What?" sighed Jim sadly.

Spock whispered, "…extreme masculine beauty."

Jim closed his eyes and smiled, and said, "You're going to be the death of me."

"No."

"I don't… I have no idea why he did it, Spock. He said something about him and John making love in the tent earlier turning me on, then just put his hands either side of my face, and when he heard your voice he kissed me. I was stunned, I froze. I'm sorry."

"Interesting that he waited until he heard my voice," said Spock, turning to look at Jim and feeling his heart rate increase slightly.

"Do you have a theory?"

"I think Sherlock may have sabotaged their tent controls earlier, from what I overheard of their conversation as they entered the tent," mused Spock.

"So… he made up an excuse to bring John into our tent, shag him, then accused me of being aroused by it and kissed me…. all for what?" asked Jim.

"M'Benga has commented that his physiology is unstable. Perhaps it is affecting his mental processes."

"Funny. Doesn't sound like unstable to me. Sounds like a plan," suggested Jim.

"John's reactions would indicate that he is not a party to it," said Spock, fiddling with a white feather that had drifted across in front of him. Jim watched him.

"So, what sort of plan would Sherlock have, that required you to be wildly jealous – sorry, for a Vulcan, that is – and John to know nothing about it?" asked Jim, puzzled.

Spock's eyes were thoughtful, then his face lit up with realisation, "I have been blind."

"Probably not," smiled Jim, "Have you figured it out?"

"What if he's not trying to incite jealousy itself, what if the jealousy is merely a means to an end?" asked Spock.

"Go on…." said Jim, picking up a long black primary feather which had drifted around his shoulder and carefully running his fingers along it, aligning the barbules gently so they caught evenly on the hooks.

Spock watched him, and said, "I have said it before, Jim: Sherlock does not have many emotions; he just has one."

"His affection for John," replied Jim, nodding, "But how would making you jealous, help John?"

Spock shook his head, "No. How would distracting me, enable Sherlock to help John?"

The light dawned in Jim's eyes, "What we discussed earlier. You think he means to hijack the ship?"

Spock nodded, "And it is our job to stop him."

"Yes," agreed Jim, "But the ship's not here yet, Spock, and we have better things to do right now," he turned and captured the Vulcan's lips in a kiss, and Spock's wings sprang outwards involuntarily as he returned the kiss.

"You know, that's a bit of a giveaway to your emotions, Spock."

"Involuntary feather erectile tissue control was not covered in the Vulcan syllabus, sir," said Spock.

"Of….. course not," smiled Jim, pulling his ill-trained Vulcan into his arms, "Oh, but what about the eggs, Spock?"

"They will be alright for another thirty-seven point nine minutes, Jim. The ambient temperature today is high enough to keep them warm."

Jim smiled and pounced on his Vulcan, "We don't have much time, then."

Outside the storage tent, Sherlock pursed his lips, then smiled. It was not good that the two Star Fleet officers had worked out his plan. But it was good to see that they had settled their differences. He snapped his wings out and took off. Thirty-seven point nine minutes with John, before they were interrupted. He smiled and flew back towards the new nest and John quickly.

John, when Sherlock reached him, did not greet him with open arms. In fact, he looked rather cranky.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock whispered, leaning down close and kissing him.

"I'm tied up and really, really pissed off with you."

"Why?"

"Because you kissed Jim Kirk."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, I didn't get what I wanted out of Jim Kirk, so I won't be kissing him again," said Sherlock airily, starting to untie John's arms.

He was working on the rope on John's feet when John said in a strange tone of voice, "Sherlock?"

"Yes?" asked Sherlock, looking up expectantly.

John's fist came close to breaking his jaw, and Sherlock slumped unconscious on the ground.

"That," said John and stared down at him angrily.

"You can't arrest a man for kissing me, Spock."

Spock gave Jim an unreadable look, and turned to look at Sherlock and John, who were sitting cross-legged in front of him beside the nest.

"Give me a look at that hand," said Jim, bending down in front of John, "What did you do, punch a rock?"

"No, me," said Sherlock sourly, and shot a glare at John, rubbing his jaw.

Jim chuckled, "Well, I can't say he's alone in wanting to hit you, Sherlock. You're lucky I'm here, I'd hate to see what Spock would like to do to you if it weren't for Star Fleet regulations on the treatment of refugees."

"He is not a refugee. He is a menace," observed Spock.

"Oh, and I suppose you'd just stand idly by and let Jim die a slow and horrible death, if it were you in my place?" demanded Sherlock.

John looked puzzled, and said, "I hate to sound like the dunce in the class, but how exactly is you kissing Jim Kirk going to stop him from dying a slow and horrible death?" He winced as Jim took his hand and carefully turned it over, inspecting the damage.

"Not him, you," corrected Sherlock.

"Okay. It's been a really long time since I had a cup of tea, and I'm starting to think I really need one right now," sighed John.

"Sherlock was trying to make Spock jealous to distract him so that he could hijack my ship," explained Jim, "To save you."

"But I'm fine, I'm right here. Why does Sherlock have to hijack a star ship to save me? From what?"

"Increasing metabolic temporal dissonance," said Spock absently, "What is that light?"

"Increasing what? What light?" asked John, but then they all fell as a beam enveloped them and made John feel like his teeth were turning inside out.

"Evolution…. beam….." ground out Spock, as they all passed out.

**Chapter Twenty-three**

Jim groaned and rolled over on the rock-hard ground. It was almost dark, and he realised that the other three were all unconscious still. He pulled his hand from John's and sat up, then stumbled over to Spock, checking for a pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief and checked Sherlock and John.

Hours… something was niggling the back of his mind, and he suddenly remembered, "Oh, no."

The eggs had been without warmth for at least two or three hours, in the chilly twilight. Jim felt sick, and went over to the nest, but then froze.

In the middle of the nest were three empty shells, broken open and trampled. Some night predator must have come while they were unconscious…. he looked over at Spock, and his stomach felt like lead. Just then Jim noticed something about the others, and reached instinctively up towards his shoulders.

His wings were gone. All their wings were gone.

But instead of the elation that he thought he would feel, Jim felt gutted. He went over and shook John awake, "John…."

John mumbled something and sat up groggily, then pushed himself over to Sherlock to check for a pulse.

"Already did that," said Jim muzzily, "They're both fine, but…." and he waved an expressive arm at the nest.

"Oh, no," said John sadly, and looked at Spock.

"Don't wake him yet," said Jim sadly, and walked over to check Sherlock again.

"How… how is this an evolutionary improvement?" asked John, suddenly noticing the absence of his wings.

Jim shook his head and pursed his lips, "I don't know."

"Damn," said John, "All the food's over on the other mesa. It's a long climb down and back up."

"That's okay, I can call Geoff and ask him to bring the shuttle across for us," said Jim.

They both fell silent as Spock stirred. The Vulcan looked up at them, and across at Sherlock's still-unconscious form, then back up at Jim.

"Sherlock's fine, we're all fine, Spock," said Jim, but walked over to him.

Spock looked at him, gauging his expression and asked quietly, "The eggs?"

Jim said nothing, just closed his eyes briefly in mute sympathy. He followed Spock to the shattered eggs in the nest and put his arms around Spock when the Vulcan said nothing, just closed his eyes and stood there.

Sherlock stirred and got up, putting a brief hand on John's shoulder then walking across to the nest. He glanced at Jim and Spock, looking confused, and said, "Oh, so they've hatched."

"No," said Jim through gritted teeth, "Too early. Predator."

"Of which there are none," Sherlock reminded them all. He stepped into the nest, and turned in time to see Spock stepping towards him with murder in his eyes. Sherlock held up a piece of egg shell and said, "Internal scoring. Breakage initiating from a small circular hole at the central point of the narrow end. Not predated upon. Hatched."

Spock and Jim blinked and looked around them, "So where are they?"

"And what happened to our wings?" grumbled Sherlock.

They all glared about them, as if the sky held some answer to their questions. Eventually Jim pulled out his communicator and said, "M'Benga? Bring the shuttle over to the next closest mesa, we've been grounded. We've all had our wings clipped."

He waited, and M'Benga's voice came over the communicator, "Captain, you may have to wait a bit, the crew over here is undergoing some quite painful changes. I wouldn't trust them to pilot a shuttle at the moment."

"Why not?"

"It looks like they're all developing wings," said M'Benga, sounding a little too pleased for Jim's liking.

Jim snapped the communicator shut, and turned to the others, "Scout the top of the mesa. If the chicks are hiding somewhere we need to find them and keep them warm, fast."

"What if we don't find anything?" asked John, and Jim glared at him seeing Spock look towards the edge of the mesa. It was a long way down for a baby chick that wandered too far from the nest.

"Just shut up and look," snapped Jim. "They're either here, or they're not. If they are here we need to find them and keep them warm."

"They're not here," stated Sherlock flatly.

"How do you know?" asked Spock. It was the first time he had spoken since he had awoken.

"Flight feathers," said Sherlock, "They weren't born helpless."

Spock inspected the small feathers, three of them, which Sherlock held up from the nest for inspection. He took them from the detective, and held them, looking at them for a long time.

"He is correct," said Spock, looking relieved, "It appears that the young were born flighted. But… where are they?"

"Let's just check the mesa before it gets dark, just in case," suggested Jim.

Sherlock shrugged and sat in the nest, but the other three spread out and began searching. John glared at Sherlock a few times, but eventually even Spock had to acknowledge that the fledglings were not on the mesa top.

He came back to the nest with John, and reported to Jim, who was just returning, "There is no sign of them, Jim."

Just then Jim's communicator crackled and beeped weakly. Jim grabbed it out instinctively, and said, "M'Benga?"

"Sulu here, Captain. What is your status?"

"Sulu? What are you doing back early?"

"Ion storm in the next sector, Captain. We couldn't get through for that diplomatic run, so we had no choice but to turn back. I know we're ten days early, sir, but I thought I'd just check in with you and see whether you had finished your work there yet?"

Jim smiled, "We could sure use the ship's sensor's right now, Sulu."

"On our way, sir. Any medical emergencies?"

"No, Sulu, but we do have a tale to tell and a couple of refugees, and we could sure use your help finding some missing… persons."

"Coming in at warp seven, then, sir, ETA three point nine hours."

"Understood. Kirk out," Jim snapped the communicator shut and looked around him.

"The star ship is on its way?" Sherlock's eyes were lit up like a child in a candy store.

"Oh, brother," said John, looking very worried.

Spock said nothing, just stared into the darkness as though he could see through the inky blackness and find the missing chicks.

Jim sighed, and walked over to Sherlock. Much as the detective was irritating beyond belief, there was something about the way he had spoken about the Enterprise that made Jim want to forgive him just about anything.

But Sherlock was looking puzzled, and ran his hands over John's back as Jim walked up. Jim tilted his head.

"How is this an evolutionary improvement?" asked Sherlock sadly, "I liked the wings."

"I don't know. What's better than having wings and being able to fly?" asked Jim.

"You've changed your tune," observed John.

"I guess it takes a bit of getting used to," sighed Jim, "I'm going to miss them now."

"But how is it better?" demanded Sherlock, irritably, "The beam is supposed to make us better. It doesn't make any sense."

John and Jim shrugged, and Spock stared out at the inky sky.

**Chapter Twenty-four**

It was a simple accident. Most accidents are. John was too used to having wings. He had been on the planet's surface now for over eight months, and had grown accustomed to the forgiving nature of avian existence. If you are careless near the edge of a high cliff, you can give a few flaps and you are lifted gently back up to the top. If you trip, your wings automatically flick out to slow your descent. The instinctive reflexes which protect you from falling gradually dull and fade with disuse.

It was so easy (in the deepening twilight, wandering around, bored and waiting for the mysterious star ship, half hoping you would still stumble across the previously missed batch of fledglings, allowing yourself to get a few metres away from Sherlock, Jim and Spock), to forget the danger of a high cliff with a rough, screed edge.

John slipped, and stumbled across a protruding rock in the dark. Gravel ground along swiftly under his feet, then his feet were above nothing, and he automatically tried to flap… but then remembered that he was wingless.

"Sherlooooooooooooooooooooooo ck!" came the swiftly disappearing voice, and Sherlock flung himself over the edge of the cliff to fly down and rescue John.

But he too was wingless.

Jim and Spock saw it all, and Jim was quick, "Enterprise, two life forms, falling from my position, can you lock on and beam them up?"

A heartbeat, then "Sir…. no, sorry, well out of transporter range still," said Sulu's voice, agonised.

Spock pulled out his communicator and looked at Jim, realising as he did so that there was no way there would be enough seconds left for M'Benga to even wake up, let alone get to the shuttle, fire up the engines, and get down to the bottom of the mesa in time. But there was another duty to be done.

"M'Benga, Spock here."

"Geoff here, ah, sir," muttered a sleepy voice.

"Doctor… body retrieval duty. Two bodies, at the foot of the mesa this message is emanating from. Take the shuttle down and get them. Spock out." His voice was flat, emotionless, the indifferent voice of Vulcan grief which Jim knew too well, and which would only serve to embellish the myth amongst the crew that Spock was heartless and uncaring. But Jim could see his face, and stepped forward to put a hand on his shoulder, around his waist.

"Why?" whispered Spock.

"Bad luck. Carelessness," murmured Jim, too shocked himself to offer a full sentence.

"But Sherlock…. he must have realised," said Spock. "His face just before he jumped, Jim… it was calculating."

Jim shook his head numbly, "Well, at least he won't hijack my ship." He realised as he said it that it was utterly the wrong thing to say, but he knew Spock would understand.

They waited the twenty minutes that Spock knew it would take the humans to get the shuttlecraft fired up and search the base of the mesa. The twenty minutes stretched into thirty, then forty. Jim looked at Spock, and pulled out his communicator.

"M'Benga?" he asked.

"Sir, are you sure about your coordinates?" came M'Benga's voice, testy, strained.

"Lock onto my communicator now. We're still at the position they fell from. Search a one hundred metre radius from the base of the mesa below this point," directed Jim, trying not to sound irritable.

"Sir, we've got the coordinates right. We've searched out to a five hundred metre radius already. There are no bodies here, sir, no organic matter at all," came back M'Benga's voice.

"That's not possible," said Jim.

M'Benga's tired sigh came back clearly through the communicator, "Sir, this is space. Anything's possible."

Jim stared into the communicator, wondering if he should reprimand M'Benga for insubordination for that remark, then he just said, "Get back to camp, Geoff. The Enterprise will be here soon."

"Thank you sir. Sorry."

"Kirk out."

The next day was a sad and slow affair. Twelve hours of scanning of the planet's surface yielded nothing, no sign of the fledglings, the bodies, in fact, no animal matter on the planet except of course, the contents of their large food boxes at the camp. They packed the shuttle and took off, Jim finding it hard to believe that he could feel such grief when, realistically, nothing had changed. Before they came to the planet, they had not known Sherlock or John had existed, and the fledglings certainly had not existed. Nor had their wings. Everything he was grieving about was nothing, in the larger scheme of things. But he was so damned sad about it.

He should have used his telekinesis to pull them back up. But the habit of flying was so entrenched even in Jim by that stage, he simply did not think of the telekinesis until much later. That was not helping his guilt. He tried to tell himself that they had been too far away from him already, that he would not have been able to pull them up, that it was not his fault. But star ship captains are taught all through their training, that everything is their fault.

That night, as the Enterprise effortlessly twisted the space-time continuum to its requirements and hurtled through interspace at impossible speeds, Jim buried his head in Spock's shoulder and missed the smell of feathers. At least he had this, now: Spock sleeping here with him in his cabin. Icarus had given him memories of huge shiny blue-black wings gleaming in the sunlight or shuddering in ecstasy, and better still, it had given him Spock, in his bed. Jim fell asleep, almost content.

Down in the darkness of the shuttle bay, there was a creak and a strange bang, and a flurry of excited tweeting.

"Shhh," a quiet, deep voice said, and there was a low giggle.

Soon the computers went mysteriously into a surveillance loop which both scanned and showed the shuttle bay as empty.

**Chapter Twenty-five**

It was the little things. Jim started to notice strange things happening around, or rather, in, his ship.

A cat strolled past him in a corridor. Pets were allowed on the Enterprise, but didn't usually stroll around in the corridors alone.

A bulkhead giggled.

The turbo lift starting occasionally speaking to him in an irascibly deep, sexy voice.

He found a white feather in his bed one morning.

The crewman assigned to Spock's newly vacated quarters, a scientist, left after an hour and refused to go back in. He refused all attempts by Dr McCoy to get an explanation and simply said he felt uncomfortable sleeping there. Three more crewmembers did the same thing. Christine Chapel was delighted to come up on the assignment sheet next in line for Spock's quarters…. lugged her bags in there, ran out screaming five minutes later and locked herself in the sickbay toilet for two hours.

Jim slept in Spock's quarters with no ill effects.

Spock slept in Spock's quarters with no ill effects.

A security guard moved in reluctantly that night and ran out sneezing after ten minutes.

The quarters remained empty from then on, pending investigation by the chief engineer. McCoy wickedly suggested that a priest and an exorcism might be more appropriate, and Spock and McCoy had the predictable run-in over beads, rattles, superstition and every other irrational human custom Spock could think of. Jim sat at his desk between them feeling ridiculously at home.

McCoy devilled Spock and Jim with great delight over the empty quarters, Jim suspected more because it gave the good doctor a chance to highlight the reason for the emptiness of said quarters, that is, the fact that Spock was now sleeping in Jim's quarters, than because of the waste of space.

Jim suggested McCoy move into the quarters. McCoy sensibly declined. The next morning, McCoy found a white feather under his desk paperweight in sickbay. Well, nearly white.

Jim relaxed back into his captainly routine, feeling more at home, despite all the strange occurrences on his ship, than he had for years. The ship was his. Spock was his. Life was as near to perfect as it ever got when you were hurtling through a vacuum at unlikely speeds from one dangerous alien encounter to the next. And wasn't that half the thrill of it?

Then one night, he came out of a deep sleep into hell. The space around him was pulling at him, time sped up and slowed down, the temperature in his cabin was through the roof, and one word went slamming through Jim's mind: wormhole.

He and Spock fought their way into their uniforms at record speed and made it to the turbo lift with space and time yawing around them like a running watercolour.

Spock was thundering orders into the intercom, and the lift doors opened… to sudden normality.

"Report!" commanded Jim, "Coordinates, temporal and spatial, now."

Sulu read out the coordinates, and they sounded strangely familiar to Spock. He checked his readings, then checked again, settled back in his chair and looked thoughtful.

"Captain," he said, and Jim turned to him at the note in his voice, "What?"

"If you will sir," and Spock indicated a readout on his computer, "The planet Sarpeidon, sir."

Jim looked over his first's shoulder and took in a hissing breath, "No, Sarpeidon doesn't exist anymore, remember? The whole system blew up eighteen months ago."

Spock raised an eyebrow, "In that case, I can only suggest that we have travelled back in time to a period before their sun went nova."

Sulu was on deck, and concurred, "Sir, my chronometer, it confirms Mr Spock's suggestion. Star Date shows we have travelled back in time approximately two years."

Jim walked over to Spock's station and said, "That means there will be six months before the sun goes nova."

"Correct, sir," said Spock, then said very quietly in Jim's ear, "Surely not?"

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Spock?" Jim's voice was a murmur.

Spock whispered, so that only Jim could hear, "Is it possible that we have been hijacked?"

"He's dead, Spock," Jim whispered back, but Spock shook his head.

"Supposedly, sir."

"Sir!" Uhura's voice was urgent, "Security breach. Shuttle bay doors opening!"

"Override!" roared Kirk.

"No good, sir, they've been taken out of the loop."

Spock strode over to her station and said something in Vulcan, then jumped back to his station, and reported, "Security breach is not reaching the science console sir, they've put in a dummy file, I'd say. Looks like it's been running for months."

"Shuttle departing, Captain, shall we open fire?"

"No," said Jim quietly, "Wait til they land then we'll transport a security team down to retrieve them and the shuttle. No good destroying a perfectly good shuttle."

"Aye, sir."

"Shields up, just in case," ordered Kirk, "Until that shuttle is in-atmosphere and can't fire on us."

"Aye, sir."

"Life-form readings on the shuttle?" asked the captain, without much hope of getting any.

"Five… bird-like creatures sir," said Spock, "Warm-blooded, possibly humanoid with wings."

To his surprise, the captain chuckled in response, "Smart move. Letting us see the readings now so we don't fire on them."

Spock stepped over behind the captain's chair and asked, "What now, sir?"

"We wait, Mr Spock, we wait. They'll land near the Atavachron, they'll do what they have to do, and then we'll decide whether to send them engraved invitations to bring my shuttlecraft back on board this ship."

To Spock's surprise, the captain said, "Mr Sulu, you have the con. Let me know when they land. Mr Spock and I will be in the mess. Stand down red and yellow alerts."

"Coffee, Mr Spock?" asked Jim, and practically towed his first off the bridge into the turbo lift.

"Deck Five," he murmured, and Spock started to ask a question but was rewarded with the slightest of shakes of the head by Jim.

They reached the Captain's quarters and Jim waited until the doors shut behind them before calling the privacy lock on and taking Spock's hand gently in his and lifting it to Jim's face.

"The meld?" asked Spock, seeking permission, unsure.

"Yes, please. I need you to check my perceptions of this situation," said Jim.

Spock frowned, and cautiously placed his fingers softly on the human's face… and was rewarded with laughter in the meld.

_Jim?_

_Haunted quarters my ass! Came the human's voice._

_I do not understand._

_He bloody did it, Spock! He tried distracting you, and when that didn't work, he figured out how to make us all think he was dead, that John was dead too. Without John, we'd see no reason for him to hijack the ship and we wouldn't be watching for it._

_Take away his apparent motive for the crime and we'd never predict that he would do it._

_Sheer brilliance. And the 'haunted' quarters, He knew you'd be moving into my quarters when we got back to the ship, and he used that information and all the other information he got from your mind in the meld, to get John to the Atavachron._

_Jim, I don't understand how you can possibly be happy about a man who has just hijacked your ship._

_Five life forms, Spock, five. Sherlock, John, and three others. Two large and three smaller. When's the last time we had three feathered life forms go missing?_

_The fledglings?_

_You can bet your pointy ears it's them._

_So, now what do we do?_

_Go down and talk to him, I suppose. Leave the logs as they are and take the ship back to Icarus on a fake distress call and pick up two missing refugees and three new Federation citizens. And find out how the hell they hid from our scanners._

_So this is why you wanted to talk to me in the meld? To keep it out of the log?_

_Yes._

_Back to the bridge?_

_Yes._

_Jim?_

Spock kissed him, and turned to walk back out of their quarters.

Uhura was hailing the shuttle craft, but Jim said to her quietly, "Give it up, Uhura, they won't answer. Spock and I will beam down when they land."

They waited an annoying twenty minutes, then Sulu reported, "Shuttle has landed sir…. quite a way from the city. They'll have a long trek ahead of them to get to the Atavachron."

"That's if they're walking," muttered Jim under his breath. Out loud he said, "Lock onto their life form readings. Mr Spock and I will beam down and intercept them."

"Sir, wouldn't a security detachment be a wise precaution?"

"We are temporally displaced, Mr Sulu, I think it is wise to keep numbers to a minimum," snapped Kirk, and Sulu subsided, looking abashed.

"Sulu, you have the con."

"Aye sir."

In the turbo lift, Spock said, "We read avian life forms. If it is them, does that mean their wings have somehow returned?"

"I've been thinking about that. Maybe Sherlock's shape-shifting abilities have evolved?"

"My suggestion exactly, sir, but…."

"Spit it out, Spock."

"Does that not mean that our wings should have returned, too?"

"We might be a step behind. I would go jumping off any tall buildings to test your theory, Spock."

Spock turned to him and remembered iridescent white wings, framing a golden body, and shoulders covered in soft gold feathers. He let his eyes linger over Jim's body…. the human was not as fit as he had been on Icarus, and the golden sheen had faded a little, but he was still beautiful.

The turbo lift spat them out and they endured the buzzing annoyance of the transporter beam, and found themselves surveying the bright, pre-nova skies of Sarpeidon. Five specks in the sky loomed larger, and Jim waved. The specks grew into Sherlock and John, and three very bright-eyed medium sized young hawks. Not human at all. Jim felt a pang of regret.

They all landed, the hawks perching on Sherlock's and John's shoulders and staring at him and Spock intently. Spock stared back and said nothing.

"Sherlock, John. Not dead, I see," Jim greeted them.

John hung his head, and Sherlock said brightly, "Most observant of you, Jim. Aren't humans amusing, Spock? I can see why you keep them around."

Spock glared at Sherlock, and the three hawks hissed menacingly back at the Vulcan. Parenthood for Spock, thought Jim, was not exactly getting off to a flying start.

"Boys…. play nice," came John's voice, soft but strangely menacing.

Jim looked him over, "A friendly buzz over the intercom would have been nice, John. 'Hey, we're not dead, neither are your children'… that sort of thing."

"Captain, you know why we're here. You would not have brought us, and John needs to have his metabolism adjusted to survive in your time, as do I. Would you rather we had implicated you and your crew as conspirators to desertion and illegal time travel?"

"This is worse than desertion or mutiny. This is piracy," declared Spock scathingly.

Sherlock threw both his hands up in delight, "Oh, God, I'm a pirate. John, I'm a pirate!"

"Idiot," declared John mildly, but grinned.

"You've forced me into piracy, John, to save you. God, I love you for that!"

"I'll buy you an eye-patch," promised John with a chuckle.

"You're mad," declared Jim, glaring at Sherlock.

"No. Just a little more in touch with my feelings than you are," said Sherlock, looking Jim up and down.

Jim looked at Spock, who shrugged, folded his arms and said, "Well, Captain, I must say it is nice not to be the one on the receiving end of such comments, for once."

Jim bridled, "What? Spock, what's got into you? A minute ago you were accusing him of piracy."

"Well, we did bring his babies back," grinned John wickedly, "Gotta get some brownie points for that, eh, Spock?"

Spock looked up to the sky inscrutably, then eyed the young hawks one by one, "They look healthy."

"Don't get excited, they've been raised by Sherlock," warned John apologetically.

"Much as we'd like to stay and chat, we have work to do," said Sherlock, "Spock?"

"What makes you think he's going to help you?" demanded Jim.

"The facts: that you did not fire on the shuttle or use the override codes to bring it back to the ship, that you came down without security guards, and brought Spock?" suggested Sherlock.

"Oh," said Jim.

Sherlock frowned at him, then stepped closer to Jim and said earnestly, "Please?"

Jim frowned and looked up into the too-intelligent eyes, and Sherlock glanced over at John and back to Jim, and said, "Captain, wouldn't you have done the same thing if it were Spock in danger?"

Jim sighed, "You hijacked my ship."

"I am sorry, I'm sure I owe you a drink or something to make up for that," said Sherlock thoughtfully, "Is that how these things work?"

"Come on," growled Jim, "Let's get on with it."

"What, you're going to help too?" Sherlock brightened up, but then looked dubious, "But how much do you know about computers?"

"A lot," said Spock, stepping up very close to Sherlock and adding quietly as Jim walked away, "But if you kiss him again I will turn you into feather dusters."

Sherlock winked at Spock, and John shook his head. They followed Jim towards the city and the library, and the three young hawks circled overhead and observed with bright, intelligent eyes.

**Epilogue**

London.

It hadn't changed, well, much. The constant roar of traffic had been largely replaced by the constant whine of transporters, and the black taxis now took off vertically. John walked slowly along the street towards 221B Baker Street, enjoying the warm June sunshine and ignoring the stares of tourists gathered across the way.

"Sherlock? Home," he called, climbing the narrow stairs.

"John? We have company," came Sherlock's voice, followed proudly by, "I made tea."

"You said four words into the replicator, Sherlock," grinned John, "It's not rocket science…." Then his grin broadened as he saw who their guests were, "Jim! Spock! Long time no see!"

Jim Kirk stood up and shook hands with John, and even Spock proffered a polite hand, which John held his breath and shook quickly, releasing it before his life history could cross the link which immediately formed across their joined hands. He had a feeling that Spock now knew exactly what he had eaten for dinner for the last three months running, though.

"I see you got the old flat back," smiled Jim.

"Oh, yes, well, turns out the museum was actually owned by the family trust, and technically the family trust belongs to Sherlock, although his descendants did argue a bit about it. Hard to argue with a DNA test, though, and luckily Sherlock had stored his DNA just in case."

"The cheek," declared Sherlock.

John laughed, and said, "Has he managed to replicate lunch for you yet, or," and he winked at Sherlock, "Don't his cooking skills extend to five words?"

"If you will allow me," offered Spock, and John nodded gratefully.

"How are the kids?" asked John.

Jim laughed, "Star Fleet Academy is never going to be the same. They set fire to the mess last week, managed to put it out by flapping really hard."

"God, haven't they been expelled yet?" asked John, horrified.

"Oh, you know, save the planet once or twice, your kids get special treatment," grinned Jim.

Spock brought steaming bowls of Chinese food to the table, much to Sherlock's delight.

"You look fit. How are you going with your wings?" asked Sherlock, looking at Jim, remembering the silken, snowy white wings.

"Oh, getting much better. The meld helps, if Spock or I figure out something we can share it with the other. The hardest thing was realising that we could actually shape shift them back at will, not just under duress. It does make for nice holidays with the kids… if they decide to stay in their winged forms, that is."

"So, Jim," asked John, "Did you ever find anything at Icarus, to explain what happened to us back then? It seems odd we never found the aliens."

"That's because they weren't there," observed Sherlock, around a mouthful of food and chopsticks.

"They were from the distant future," explained Spock.

"How the hell do you know that?" asked John.

Spock and Sherlock looked at each other, and Spock waved a polite hand at Sherlock, who explained, "Well, we knew from firsthand experience that the beam was quite effective, so if it had been in operation for any length of time, the planet would have had a multitude of life forms. Therefore we must have arrived at the very beginning of the evolutionary timeline. Since the aliens were obviously capable of time travel, which is how they brought you and I forward into this time, John, if they needed the planet populated in the present they would simply have taken the beam generator back in time to kick-start the evolutionary process back then and have the planet thriving by the present day."

John frowned, concentrating.

Sherlock went on, "If they needed the planet populated in the past we would have found archaeological evidence of a past civilisation, which as Jim will attest was notable by its absence."

"Eliminate present and past…" explained Spock.

"…and you have future," concluded John. "So what, they brought the beam back to this time and used it, then took it back to the future with them? Why?"

"Dangerous thing to leave lying around in their distant past. Anyone could have gotten hold of it, John," said Sherlock.

"So we couldn't find them, because they hadn't been there yet?" asked John.

"Are we there yet?" grinned Jim, "God, if I had a dime for every time those bloody kids asked that on our last holiday….."

"So what will they end up with?" asked John.

"What do you mean, John?" asked Spock.

"Well, it seems to me that anyone who thinks that Sherlock and I are good candidates for kick-starting an evolutionary scale, must have some pretty esoteric taste in…. outcomes," mused John.

Spock said blandly, "Jim had a theory that the aliens found you two… cute."

Sherlock spat out his mouthful of Chinese food and stared at Spock.

"Oh, yeah, he has a sense of humour," smiled Jim, "Thought you realised."

Sherlock grinned, and said, "Wicked," and winked at Jim.

Spock saw the wink and his face went still. He stood up to start cleaning up.

"Feather dusters, remember, Sherlock? Feather dusters," murmured Spock very softly as he leaned down to collect Sherlock's plate. Sherlock went a shade paler as Spock headed for the disposal chute.


End file.
